


A Prince Among Tigers

by honeyedapricotsunshine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyedapricotsunshine/pseuds/honeyedapricotsunshine
Summary: When Kyungsoo, prince of Joseon, is ambushed by goblins on the road to Hanyang, his father, the King, decides to send Kyungsoo to the mysterious Tiger Mountain School to learn how to fight. Deprived of the comforts of royal life, Kyungsoo struggles to find his footing and woo the cold but incredibly handsome Jongin, a fellow student at the school.





	1. The Little Prince

One attack. That was all it took for the king to make a fuss. One stupid goblin attack on the road from Gyeongju to Hanyang and Kyungsoo was sent packing on a long trek into the mountains with mist that never cleared. It was for his own good, his father said.

It is for his own good Kyungsoo is being sent to one of the most famous (and most mysterious) schools in Joseon, the Tiger Mountain School. He has two objectives, according to his father, the king: learn to fight (even though Kyungsoo insisted he knew how to fight well enough, thank you), and retrain the guards (which also entailed choosing a captain for the guard from the students among the school).

The journey takes two weeks; three days of paved roads and smooth riding, then just over a week and a half of dirt roads, pebble roads (the worst kind; they stopped often to dislodge pebbles from the horseshoes), winding roads and lazy looping roads. Kyungsoo hates them all. He’s never been much of an outdoors person; his brothers liked the roughhousing, the bragging rights on who could spit the farthest (which _gross_ ), the sword practice and archery practice, the horse riding and the long walks in the palace garden. Kyungsoo prefers the comfort of indoors, the smell of ink and paper, the ever present steaming cup of tea and the sweet rice cakes stuffed with syrup. He’s the youngest prince; it’s because of this the king is soft on him. And it’s because of this Kyungsoo is now far from home. He’d whined about missing Chuseok, about missing Seollal with the family, about his duties as a prince because _father, I am nothing if not a filial son_ but the king had only waved these concerns away with a smile.

This means Kyungsoo sulks for the whole trip. It takes work to sulk the way a spoiled prince does; slumped in the saddle, always a frown, and never a word to the others. The two idiot guards with him, Jaehwan and Moonkyu, don’t say much anyway. A relief, truly; Kyungsoo would hate to entertain stupid questions when it was their fault they were making this trip anyway.

The morning of their arrival is even worse than the others. Three days of mist means their clothes are perpetually damp, their fires don’t start, their horses slip on the loose, wet pebbles; it means Kyungsoo is in a foul mood. But even the foul mood lessens when they reach the gate. It’s massive, four times Kyungsoo’s height, of solid metal with a curling tiger at its center. It’s been wedged directly into the mountain wall, which is thick and gray and so solid Kyungsoo can’t wrap his mind around it. There’s a shout from above and Kyungsoo spies the guard on a ledge, farther up than he expected. It’s tough, trying to see things when his eyesight sucks. A moment later, the gate grinds open and they’re allowed in.

Kyungsoo isn’t naive, or at least he likes to think he isn’t, but he wasn’t expecting such a bare welcome. The headmaster, a shriveled old man with white hair half tied in a bun and a trailing white beard, makes his way over to them, slow, leisurely steps. Kyungsoo grinds his teeth, takes a deep breath, and fails spectacularly at keeping his calm.

“It’s rather cold out, no?” he asks.

The headmaster continues his walk, stopping at the center of the courtyard. He chuckles, face wrinkled impossibly, and gives him a curt nod.

“Might be something you want to get used to, little prince,” says the headmaster.

Kyungsoo bristles. _Little_ prince? He was the smallest of his brothers, that much was true, but the headmaster was even smaller, withered and _old_. He opens his mouth to reply, but someone robs his attention before he speaks. A student, clearly, from his black uniform and the poise with which he holds himself. He’s all legs, tall and toned, his uniform tight around the arms, something that makes Kyungsoo blush; he’s thankful the cold has already pinked his cheeks or he would’ve been far more embarrassed. The student takes no notice of him, standing beside the headmaster with a familiarity that makes Kyungsoo suspect this is where he always stands. He’s a little too far for Kyungsoo to make out his features well, but from what he can make out, the student is gorgeous. He really needs to get a better look.

“Jongin, help the little prince down, eh?” the headmaster says, gesturing at Kyungsoo.

“That won’t be necessary,” Kyungsoo grumbles.

It doesn’t help his crankiness to realize that the student (Jongin, Kyungsoo corrects), hadn’t bothered to take a step towards him. How rude of him. Kyungsoo hops off, lets out an impressive string of expletives (because _fuck_ he wasn’t used to riding for so long, he’s sore all over), and leans against the horse. The headmaster waits for him to finish. Jongin raises an eyebrow.

“I need a hot bath, and food,” Kyungsoo snaps.

“All in good time, son,” says the headmaster. “How about taking your things to your room first?”

“My guards can do that,” Kyungsoo says.

The headmaster smiles. Kyungsoo hates that.

“Very well,” he says, nodding at Jaehwan and Moonkyu. They scramble off their horses (and Moonkyu slips on the slick pebbles, it’s almost enough to make Kyungsoo laugh), take Kyungsoo’s things, and wait for the next command. “Follow me.” He nods to the two students who walk out then; they take the horses. With the same leisurely pace, the headmaster walks them to the main living quarters. It doesn’t take long for them to find Kyungsoo’s room; in fact, he doesn’t think it’s much of a room at all. It’s more of a glorified closet with a bed and just enough room for a small desk and cushion. His guards have the room next door, which they’ll share. Kyungsoo has half a mind to complain, but the other discomforts take precedence, so he whirls to face the headmaster.

“The bath now, I presume?” he asks.

The headmaster laughs, revealing a few missing teeth; Kyungsoo is caught a little off guard.

“Lucky for us, you’re quite concerned with hygiene,” says the headmaster. “I’ve lost count of how many boys I’ve had to punish for skipping out on baths, some of them for days at a time.”

Kyungsoo pales at this. What has his father gotten him into?

“Come, come, you can get started while we find some uniforms for you,” says the headmaster.

The bathing rooms are on the other side of the building. There are three of them, steaming pools fed by the hot springs of the mountain. And they are all communal. Kyungsoo balks, blinking when a man with drooping asscheeks walks by, scratching his chest with a nonchalance Kyungsoo can’t understand.

“I’m a prince,” he hisses.

“Yes,” says the headmaster, and nothing else.

Kyungsoo huffs, then groans, then sucks his teeth.

“What I mean is you can’t expect me to bathe with all of these people here,” he says.

“Why not? I bathe here myself, you know,” says the headmaster.

Kyungsoo tries not to picture shriveled asscheeks, even sadder than those of the other man, and fails miserably. Jongin, he notices, finally smiles.

“But I’m—” he stops. “Oh forget it.”

“If you would like privacy to bathe, I would suggest the early morning for that,” says the headmaster with his gap-toothed grin.

Kyungsoo grunts.

“Well, when you’ve finished, you’re welcome to join us for the evening meal at the mess hall. Jongin can show you the way,” says the headmaster.

With that he leaves, humming a tune. Now it’s just Kyungsoo and Jongin. And the other men and boys already bathing, which Kyungsoo tries not to think about too much.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” says Jongin.

Oh, great. Now he’ll be alone. He doesn’t know where idiot and idioter (his nicknames for Moonkyu and Jaehwan) disappeared to. He doesn’t know where to leave his soiled clothes. He doesn’t even know how to fold them, and he certainly doesn’t know where the fresh uniform will be when he’s done. He doesn’t fancy walking around naked when he’s only just arrived.

But seeing as he doesn’t have many choices, he strips off his damp clothes, leaves them by the other piles in the cubbies by the entrance (a sign for used clothing hangs above it, maybe he should actually start reading these), and slips into the nearest bath.

The water is almost uncomfortable, but the heat soothes his sore muscles and warms him after the clammy nights spent on the side of the road. It’s almost enough to send him to sleep, but then an old man with an impressive gut decides to share the bath with him and the sight of him is enough to get Kyungsoo scrubbing madly. He may be a prince, but he has the feeling that might not matter as much as he wants it to here; but the old man takes no notice of him scrubbing the three strands of graying hair still on his head. Not even a grunt in greeting. Kyungsoo finishes bathing with a huff, and stalks off to find a towel.

The uniform fits, but it’s a little tight across the ass. Kyungsoo tugs it a few time, readjusts the waist tie, and gives up. The last thing he needs is his pants splitting mid-practice for the whole school to see. Little prince is a nickname he can tolerate; bare ass prince is not.

Jongin is waiting by the wooden benches, statue still and insanely hot; Kyungsoo doesn’t bother to hide his ogling. His initial suspicions prove him right: Jongin’s face is just as gorgeous and mouth-watering as his mile long legs and his muscled arms. Feline eyes, full lips, it’s enough to made the heat rush to Kyungsoo’s ears. But it passes quickly; Jongin finally notices him, and without a word sweeps out of the rooms. It takes a few hop-steps for Kyungsoo to catch up, and he wants to suck his teeth and whine but even walking at the same pace as Jongin proves difficult.

“Could you slow down?” Kyungsoo asks.

Jongin does, but only barely.

“Do you ever,” Kyungsoo starts, “Do you ever _talk_?”

Jongin stops, gives him a blank look, and walks off again. Kyungsoo’s not sure if the sullen silence is supposed to add to the sex appeal or not; he hasn’t decided if he likes it yet.

“How long have you been a student here?” he asks.

Jongin half-smiles; Kyungsoo almost misses it.

“All my life,” he says at last, and wow, even his voice is appealing.

“Oh, that’s,” Kyungsoo pauses and looks at him out of the corner of his eye, “depressing.”

Jongin doesn’t react. It’s like talking to a wall. A handsome wall, but still disappointingly unresponsive. It doesn’t occur to Kyungsoo yet that most other people rush to fawn over him because he’s royal, not because they’re actually interested. For now, he sulks, two steps behind Jongin because he just can’t keep up, not without mouth-breathing.

The mess hall is wide, high ceilinged and already full of students, a sea of black cotton and black wool and shining black hair. There’s still no sign of Moonkyu and Jaehwan, but Kyungsoo decides he doesn’t care, following Jongin to the food. It’s a far cry from the luxurious meals he was used to, the delicacies only a king and his sons could afford, but there’s meat and rice and vegetables; it’s nourishing, and warm, so Kyungsoo tries not to mind. If he thinks about it too much he might just cry but he’s _not_ a child and it’s his first day so he blinks away the prickle of tears and focuses on scooping rice onto his spoon. The meal is eaten in silence, and the walk back to Kyungsoo’s room is equally quiet (he convinces himself that Jongin might actually care about him, with this gesture, making sure he doesn’t get lost, but then he sees the bored look on Jongin’s face and it sours his mood). The bed is lacking, not nearly as padded and comfortable as the one in the palace, and the sheets are threadbare. The temptation to scream and throw a fit grows, but instead he curls up under the sheets and blow out the candle.

 

~

 

He can’t take his eyes off of it. The ledge, that is. A precipice, dropping hundreds of feet (well, he assumes so, the mist obscures the bottom); not even a wooden railing to keep them from falling, not that Kyungsoo thinks a wooden railing would hold much. He shifts a little, takes a step back, and catches Jongin’s eye. The other looks _amused_ if Kyungsoo had to guess. Ugh, prick. Kyungsoo scowls at him, sniffing.

They’d done their morning stretches, which Kyungsoo did with ease (Jaehwan and Moonkyu were present, Kyungsoo doesn’t ask where they disappeared to). Then they came to the ledge, Kyungsoo, Jaehwan, Moonkyu, a few other students, all new, and the headmaster. Jongin is there when they arrive.

And now he looks so smug. Kyungsoo wants to hate it, but the smirk looks…hot.

“A test of skill,” the headmaster announces. “We want to see how much you know, what you are capable of. You will fight against Jongin-ssi.”

Kyungsoo lets out a magnificent _fuck_. All the students whirl to face him, terror in their eyes, but Kyungsoo ignores them.

“Would you like to go first, your majesty?” the headmaster asks, all smiles.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

“No, I’m going last,” he snaps.

“Oh, very well,” the headmaster points at the first student. “Go on, take the first stance.”

The student, a hulking boy with a wide face and pouting lips, takes a timid step forward. It’s almost laughable how nervous he looks when he’s a full head taller than Jongin, but the cool poise of Jongin’s stance is enough to make everyone’s blood run cold. The fight is over before Kyungsoo can even process it. Swift, precise, ruthless. The boy is on the ground, as shocked as the rest of them, a little dazed from the collision of his forehead with Jongin’s elbow. Except, despite all it’s unsympathetic precision, the small welt on his forehead is far less than what he should’ve had. It should’ve been a split forehead, at least a little blood. But now Kyungsoo understands why _Jongin_ is the one doing this. He’s _that_ good, good enough to manipulate and control his strength so as to not hurt these rookies. Well _fuck_ that makes him infinitely hotter. Kyungsoo imagines, for a split moment, being fucked with that kind of precision but those are _not_ the thoughts he needs to be having right now, not when Jongin is going through students the way Jaehwan goes through dumplings (a terrifying thought, if only Jaehwan was as _precise_ as Jongin when he ate).

At least Kyungsoo can take pleasure in seeing Jaehwan and Moonkyu have their asses handed to them. They’re insufferable, and the look of rage and shame on their faces almost makes Kyungsoo laugh. Almost. Because it’s now Kyungsoo’s turn to face Jongin, who is barely sweating, not out of breath at all.

“For today, little prince,” says the headmaster.

Kyungsoo wants to roundhouse kick him in the face. But he doesn’t. Instead he takes the necessary steps to stand in front of Jongin (and _not_ think about how nice it would be to make Jongin scream his name because he needs to _focus_ right now), does the proper bow, and then stares.

“You need to initiate the fight,” says Jongin.

“I’d rather not fight at all,” Kyungsoo says nervously. He almost adds _I’d rather you fuck me_ but tactfully doesn’t.

Jongin glances at the headmaster, who Kyungsoo can’t see, then he takes a step forward and swings. It’s a slow swing, deliberate and with all the warning Kyungsoo needs to avoid it. So he does, but just barely.

“Um, what the fuck?” Kyungsoo shrieks, but Jongin only rolls his eyes and tries to knock Kyungsoo off his feet.

It becomes an elaborate dance (elaborate, not elegant) of Jongin trying to engage Kyungsoo in a fight and Kyungsoo awkwardly avoiding him, until Jongin grabs a hold of Kyungsoo and pins him to the ground.

“Let go of me you fucking buffoon-”

“This is supposed to be a test of your fighting skills,” Jongin hisses, “I can’t know how well you fight if you _don’t fight me_.”

Kyungsoo squirms anyway, tries to shove off Jongin’s foot, wiggle his arm out of Jongin’s grasp: it’s no use.

“If my father hears about this-”

“Oh, but your father knows,” says the headmaster, making his way over.

Jongin’s hold on him is still strong. Damn him. It would be less humiliating if he wasn’t on the floor, but he can’t get free.

“Titles of nobility are null in this school, little prince,” the headmaster continues. “The only rank taken into consideration is that of ability, therefore I suggest you show us what you are actually capable of. Perhaps then you won’t be relegated to the rank of novice.”

It takes all his strength to hold back the seething rage coursing through him. Jongin lets go, and Kyungsoo gets up slowly, brushing dust off his uniform. He doesn’t bother saying anything to the headmaster, not when all the students are staring at him, not when Jaehwan and Moonkyu (particularly Moonkyu, Kyungsoo will remember this) are giggling at him, not when even Jongin looks rather smug; what a spectacle they must all think this is, a prince brought to his knees (his chest, really).

So he swings. It gets to him, then, the downgrade his life has taken; the communal baths, the bed so thin he might as well be sleeping directly on stone, the food that he eats because he must, not because he enjoys it. But most of all, it’s the satisfaction in their faces at seeing him fail. Rage is what drives him, but rage is imprecise. Most of his blows are too wide or too close, never landing where he wants them to. Jongin’s agility means Kyungsoo never gets to mar that wonderful, perfect, smug face, doesn’t get to punch the arrogance right out of him. It also means the next time Jongin steps aside, Kyungsoo, driven by his momentum (which is not slowed down because he doesn’t crash into Jongin which is what he wanted), keeps going. He tries to slow down, but it’s not enough. In their fight (if he could call it that) they’d moved closer to the edge and now Kyungsoo is making a beeline for the precipice. He screams (he’s not proud of that) but a strong arm catches him and pulls him back. He falls into Jongin’s arms (if this had been yesterday he would’ve been over the moon about this), breathing heavily, and the tremble in his hands settles in.

“Students, adjourn for the day,” says the headmaster.

He gives Jongin a knowing look. Kyungsoo is too busy trying not to sound like a winded rhino to care. The other students file out. It’s just the three of them, but now that Kyungsoo has his breath back he has the luxury to remember his indignation (greater now, of course, that he’s had his ass both handed to him and saved by the same guy). He throws Jongin’s arms off of him (for a second he wants the warmth back) and stalks off. He’s sure the headmaster calls something after him but fuck him and this school and the other students and his father for sending him here.

Kyungsoo makes a beeline for his room. He doesn’t bother lighting a candle, sitting on his bed in the dark. Some light filters in through the window, enough for him to make out the few things he brought with him, the calligraphy set, the small desk. The shame of the loss returns, heating his cheeks, but there’s another shame that accompanies it, one that eats at his core. Jongin hasn’t looked at him even once. Kyungsoo knows himself to be beautiful; it’s not vanity (at least he thinks so), just a fact. He knows he turns heads, if all the propositions he received in his life are anything to go by (he hasn’t accepted a single one; none of the men are what he wants them to be. He wants, well…Jongin). Despite Kyungsoo’s best efforts to pink his cheeks that morning (a few pinches for that), plump up his lips (another few pinches for that), brush his hair till it shone, tuck the uniform so it flattered the dip of his waist and the curve of his legs and ass, Jongin seemed to see right through him. And now Kyungsoo is upset because he shouldn’t have to beg for this kind of attention. He’s a prince of Joseon, for fuck’s sake! Yes, he decides. He won’t grovel, won’t go out of his way for Jongin to notice him. The resolve wanes almost instantly; Kyungsoo realizes just how alone he is, for the first time in his life. Is it so wrong for him to want a little comfort?

It’s with that realization, between sniffles and badly concealed hiccuped sobs, Kyungsoo falls asleep.


	2. A Fire Within

**(AN: I've had a hectic work week so this chapter is a little shorter than the first. As for The Fake Boyfriend Theory, I hope to update by Saturday, if not then by early next week. Sorry about that!! As always, comment if you love it, and pester me on twitter if you want!!)**

 

Floundering. That’s what Kyungsoo is doing. Floundering, failing (there’s another f word he’d prefer. Fucking. It’s fucking. Jongin, specifically. Correction—he’d rather _be_ fucked by Jongin). Three weeks have passed since the (absolutely rigged) test on the terrifying ledge (honestly why would they _do_ that _up there_?), and Kyungsoo can’t keep up. The other students are assigned other teachers; Kyungsoo only sees them at the mess hall, or the bathing rooms (he tries the early morning baths but finds that a few extra minutes of sleep are more important than privacy so he sacrifices (only some) of his pride). But joy of joys, Kyungsoo, Jaehwan, and Moonkyu are assigned to Jongin.

The first day absolutely floors Kyungsoo. To walk out, only partially recovered from his wounded pride of the day before to see Jongin, same steely look in his eyes, waiting for them. It almost makes Kyungsoo throw a fit. _Almost_. Except he’s trying to be pleasant, to learn (after one day, such self control!) So he doesn’t. He settles for occasionally giving Jongin a dirty look (he doesn’t seem to mind it, which irks Kyungsoo. Get angry, for fuck’s sake. Care about what I think of you!).

But when Jongin barks an order at them, the realization (which had half-formed in Kyungsoo’s mind, but he’s wasn’t ever the sharpest of his brothers) that _Jongin_ will be teaching them sinks in fully, Kyungsoo almost turns around and leaves (self control, he repeats, discipline and calm. The mantra isn’t as effective as he would like). They start off easy, according to Jongin. Easy means Kyungsoo’s sore and absolutely furious. He knows his legs and arms will bruise the most (it’s true, they do, a collection of purples and reds that eventually blend with the ugly yellow of the half-healed ones). Yet the worst feeling is that of Jongin standing over him, barking out orders, steps, stances, incessant and grating on Kyungsoo’s every nerve.

At the end of the three weeks, Kyungsoo decides he’s had enough. They’re practicing with staffs today, and Jongin has rapped him on the ass (the ass! Kyungsoo’s pride and joy! Not to mention the pain he’ll be in whenever he sits) one too many times. Kyungsoo throws his staff on the ground, breathing quite heavily, and just stands there.

“It’s not rest time yet,” Jongin says.

“It is for me,” Kyungsoo snarls.

Jongin only raises a careful, calculated eyebrow.

“Pick up the staff.”

“Pick it up yourself,” Kyungsoo spits back, gritting his teeth against the dull throb of his whole body.

“What?”

It’s a threatening what, and for a moment Jongin’s cool exterior slips. He looks pissed, teeth slightly bared and brow furrowed. It’s hot. Wait, Kyungsoo corrects, it’s not, because he’s supposed to be angry now. He allows himself a second to indulge in the thought of Jongin angrily fucking him (against the wall would be nice, but his heart decides on his soft bed in Hanyang), then wills himself to focus. And because he’s reckless and angry and sore and tired and this is all bullshit, he says,

“Stick it up your ass while you’re at it,” entirely too smug.

It’s almost funny, the way Jongin’s face morphs from shock to rage to seething fury before settling on some strange mix of all beneath a veneer of control. He must not be used to a challenge like this. Kyungsoo gloats; at last he’s done something to get a reaction from him. He even allows himself to wear a shit-eating grin. When Jongin notices, he snarls. Oh, fuck, that’s _really_ hot. Hotter than is probably healthy for the well-being of Kyungsoo’s…Not the best train of thought to follow.

It’s an eternity of silence. It’s easy to see Jongin calculating what to say and do next, and Kyungsoo’s is proud of that, of cracking that stony exterior enough to know that Jongin is unsure. But Jongin seems unwilling to break that silence; instead, he hooks the staff onto his foot and kicks it up (and catches it smoothly and wow, that’s really fucking cool). Kyungsoo is distracted enough, between the gloating and the ill-disguised awe at Jongin’s really cool move, to not notice that Jongin has tossed the staff. At him. Directly. It hits him on the left cheekbone, just as Kyungsoo starts to move, and the clatter of it hitting the floor echoes.

Shock. And silence. And the throbbing pain that takes up half his face. Kyungsoo touches his cheekbone; the staff split his skin, just a bit, staining Kyungsoo’s fingers with blood. He looks at it, the bright red on his fingertips (he’s so entranced with this, in such utter shock, that he doesn’t see the flashes of guilt and worry on Jongin’s face).

“You absolute bitch of a bastard,” he hisses (it’s not the best insult, but he’s a little too pissed to care).

When he looks at Jongin, the other is back to his stoic self, trying to conceal the flick of his eyes towards the wound.

“Why the _fuck_ would you do something this fucking stupid?” Kyungsoo screeches.

“You’re supposed to _catch_ it,” Jongin replies calmly.

That’s enough to set Kyungsoo off. Fuck self control, fuck the discipline he’d accumulated over the past three weeks (it’s not much but Kyungsoo doesn’t realize it isn’t), fuck the ability to keep calm under pressure and withstand this bullshit. He throws the fit he’s been waiting to throw since he arrived, and the headmaster arrives just in time to witness it.

“Catch it? _Catch_ it? That’s all you have to say when you’ve split my fucking face open? Three weeks of you trying to rip me a new asshole and when you finally do, you can’t even admit you did something wrong?” Kyungsoo walks up to him, and right now he really hates the height difference because it means he was to look _up_ at Jongin and it really ruins the effect he’s going for. He jabs a finger at Jongin’s (very solid) chest. “And you don’t have the decency to reply either, huh. Is all that muscle power syphoning that much fucking blood flow from your brain? Is that why you don’t have a fucking ounce of remorse for belittling people? Or is this fun for you? Is it? Do you get off on doing this? That must be it, huh. You jack off to the thought of putting people through pain.” Oops, that might’ve been a bit much. More sexual than Kyungsoo’s usual insults, but he ignores the gasps of Jaehwan and Moonkyu, ignores the scandalized shock in Jongin’s eyes, and whirls on the headmaster.

“Why the fuck is a student doing the teaching, huh?”

The headmaster offers him a placid smile.

“We are all students of life, Kyungsoo, always learning-”

Kyungsoo doesn’t let him finish.

“Oh, you’re really going to pull this old wise man bullshit when I’ve had my face cracked in half? Is that what you’re going to do?” he snarls, pointing at his wound again.

The headmaster only sighs. Kyungsoo’s breathing is a little heavy, and he knows as soon as the anger leaves him, he’ll feel spent; for now, he’s still fueled by the bitter rage coursing through him, so he stalks past the headmaster, shoves Jongin (and manages to make him stumble, which he considers an amazing feat), and kicks open the door to go inside.

 

~

 

It takes him a full hour to walk off the rage. In that time, the throb of his cheekbone takes over his left eye and part of his temple, the blood dries, and the aches settle. The wound is swollen now, as Kyungsoo touches it gingerly. He pauses by one of the windows, looking out at the endless blue and white of valleys and mist in the evening light. The cold takes the last of his anger, and he feels the intense and sudden urge to cry. It hits him so suddenly he doesn’t have time to prepare, just hide his face in his hands and sink onto the frigid stone stair, sobs racking his thin frame. Then he has to stop, because crying makes the throb of his wound worse and his head feels like it’s going to explode and he’s hungry and tired and his overworked muscles are stiff and sore. He sighs, pressing his wounded cheek against the cold of the stone, but it’s rough stone and only irritates it more.

With a sniffle, Kyungsoo gets to his feet. He should find the infirmary and get the wound cleaned, but what he wants most is to curl up in bed: the pulse of the headache wins.

It’s not as crowded as he thinks it will be (especially with teachers like Jongin, he thinks bitterly). The head nurse, a woman that reminds Kyungsoo of his mother, clucks at the sight of his wound and sits him on a bed.

“How bad is the pain?” she asks.

“My head hurts,” he mumbles.

She sucks her teeth and struts off to find what she needs. But of course, Kyungsoo has the most rotten luck because once the nurse by the bed next to his moves, he sees Jaehwan. His guard has tissue stuffed up his nose, which is bruised and looks fractured.

“Oh, your majesty!” he chirps.

Kyungsoo only curls his lip in response.

“After you left, we kept sparring,” Jaehwan starts, oblivious to Kyungsoo’s desire for silence. “Moonkyu did this to me, by the way. Headmaster says it’s because he doesn’t have enough control of his own strength, but I’d say that Jongin prick doesn’t either.”

Kyungsoo bristles at that. Only _he_ can insult Jongin.

“Be quiet,” he snaps.

“Yeah, he- wait, what?” Jaehwan stares at him.

“Just stop talking,” Kyungsoo sighs.

Jaehwan looks put out, but Kyungsoo’s in too much pain to care. The head nurse comes back then, trailed by a younger nurse who holds all the supplies.

“Drink, for the pain,” she says, holding out a shot glass.

And Kyungsoo, the fool, takes it without asking what it is. He coughs, face screwed in a grimace (well, as much of one as he can manage).

“That was soju,” he croaks.

“What else did you think it would be, eh?” she asks, taking a clean cloth and cleaning the wound.

He winces, staring at the glass still in his hands.

“Stop fidgeting,” she snaps. To the nurse, “Give him another one.”

“W-what, no,” says Kyungsoo, hissing when the head nurse grips his face to keep him still.

The other nurse complies, pouring a fresh shot of soju into Kyungsoo’s glass. The head nurse pauses.

“Go on, drink,” she says.

Kyungsoo pouts and sniffles, but the head nurse only blinks at him so he downs the next shot, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

“That’s so fucking gross- FUCK!”

The head nurse had dipped a clean cloth in alcohol and swiped it on the wound. It burns, and Kyungsoo remembers why he didn’t want to come to the infirmary.

“A warning would’ve been nice,” he squawks.

She rolls her eyes and ignores his grumbling (because he continues to grumble, he can’t help it) as she finishes cleaning the wound.

“It’s not deep, thankfully, just try to stay out of the sun so it won’t scar,” she says at last. “And drink more soju, it’ll help.”

“I thought our bodies were sacred and alcohol was prohibited by the school,” says Kyungsoo, because he really doesn’t want any more.

The head nurse snorts.

“My infirmary, my rules,” she says simply, pouring out another shot.

He realizes he hasn’t eaten lunch when he tries to look around and the room spins. Right. It must be close to dinner time, but he really doesn’t want to go to the mess hall, not when he knows they’ll all take pleasure in his bruised face. Thankfully, the head nurse seems to know this and has the younger nurse bring a bowl of hearty stew (Kyungsoo has a feeling this is from the head nurse’s own kitchen, it smells far more savory) and a bowl of rice. The other injured students have left by then, except for a boy on the far end of the room, but he’s snoring away, his fractured leg bound tightly. Kyungsoo eats his meal at ease, then props his feet upon the bed. He won’t stay the night, but there’s something soothing about this room, so he lingers.

“Kyungsoo,” says a soft voice.

He looks. Blinks stupidly. Keeps staring. There’s no way that soft voice, that voice that sounds almost concerned, is coming from _Jongin_. Except it is. Kyungsoo’s stomach does a somersault, and he almost throws himself in Jongin’s arms but then the heat of the soju and the pain of humiliation returns. Kyungsoo knows the confidence alcohol provides is not of the trustworthy kind, but he feels it, just as much as he feels the return of his earlier rage.

“Fuck off,” he hisses.

Jongin looks…disappointed almost. His shoulders sag just a little, and he looks down at the floor. After a heartbeat, he meets Kyungsoo’s eyes, and Kyungsoo swears he can see a flicker of remorse.

“As you wish,” he says in that same soft voice, and walks off.


	3. The Depths of Winter

**(AN: This is a whopper of a chapter (for me at least lmao). I hope you guys enjoy it!! This is also about the halfway mark, at least for what I have planned, jsyk. For all of you waiting for a The Fake Boyfriend Theory update, I'll post it by tonight!! I'm just waiting for my beta (ahemhoneypeachahem) to read over it to smooth things out. Anywho, you know the drill, comment if you love it!!)**

He wants to stay mad at Jongin, he really does. But the truth is Kyungsoo’s heart is just too soft and as soon as the wound heals (he gets three days off to rest after incident, but the wound heals quickly) he’s back to pining. Jongin is still hard on his ass, harder, perhaps, than before; Kyungsoo’s always either angry at him for the latest whack on his thighs, or he’s in awe. Usually both, with just a smidge of lust in there somewhere.

But every week Kyungsoo loses his cool at least once. It usually goes like this: Jongin calls him up to practice, with a staff or else with their hands and legs; they being to spar, and Jongin gets in far more touches (and only touches, he’s good at keeping it light…most of the time) than Kyungsoo, until he lets his staff fall a little too hard on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, or he twists Kyungsoo’s arm a little too roughly (these are supposed to be warnings, but Kyungsoo only perceives them as slights); then Kyungsoo lets himself be guided by rage, which usually means he loses control. His hits are always too wide or too slow or too obvious; he makes even less contact with Jongin. But every once in a while he’ll get a good solid punch in Jongin’s middle, or an elbow to the chest, or a knee to the thigh. What Kyungsoo hates is that Jongin takes it all in stride. He parries or deflects or blocks; sometimes Kyungsoo’s hits knock the air out of him, but usually it’s a soft _oof_ and no pause. After which, of course, he hands Kyungsoo’s ass to him, because angry Kyungsoo means imprecise Kyungsoo; he blocks weakly, parries late, drops his staff, takes hits left, right, and center. It means each night, Kyungsoo is in a foul mood. He’s a volcano spewing expletives and dirty looks at anyone who has the misfortune of interacting with him. After a particularly difficult session with Jongin, he tears the blanket in his room in half.

Yet just as he thinks things can’t get worse, they do.

When he wakes one morning, one snowy, wintery morning (Dongji is soon, he thinks, and the thought of spending it here makes him miserable), makes his way to the indoor training rooms, Jongin and the headmaster wait with three packs, lined up neatly on the floor. Jaehwan and Moonkyu stumble in after them (Moonkyu, he notices, sends Jongin a shy smile. Kyungsoo swears under his breath, but Jongin doesn’t seem to have noticed Moonkyu’s presence at all). They stand in silence for a bit, until Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

“Okay, what the fuck is this?” he asks.

The headmaster smiles. Stupid, smug old man. Kyungsoo hates how pleased he always looks.

“A test of patience,” he says with a chuckle.

Jongin cracks a smile at this and Kyungsoo has to resist the urge to curl his lip.

“But most importantly a test of endurance,” the headmaster continues, once he’s done laughing. “Jongin will take you out to the summit, where you will spend the next three nights.”

Stunned silence. Jaehwan actually chokes on his spit. Kyungsoo can only stare, owl-eyed and absolutely indignant.

“You’ve gone senile,” Kyungsoo says.

Jaehwan, ever graceful, chokes on his spit again.

“Can you shut up?” Kyungsoo hisses.

Jaehwan tries to hold in his coughs, but ends up red-faced and hacking into his sleeve.

“I can assure you my mind is intact, little prince,” says the headmaster, leaning on his cane. “This is standard training for all our students.”

“Oh, is that how you cull them?” Kyungsoo asks, a hint of disgust in his voice.

The headmaster looks serious for a moment. Kyungsoo’s not intimidated, just annoyed.

“You leave now,” says the headmaster.

Jongin bows to the headmaster, then stands by the door to wait for the others to bow. Kyungsoo doesn’t. He picks up his pack and keeps walking, pushing past Jongin to get outside.

The snow is already thick in some places. The flakes are fat, and stick wetly to them as they trudge towards the back end of the school complex. The path is kept clear with salt, which crunches under their feet; the gate to the summit is smaller than the main gate, and the two guards there nod their heads at Jongin. One of them gives Kyungsoo a funny look, but Kyungsoo ignores them all, head high with confident steps. The path outside the gate is narrow, snaking around the mountain wall, and there’s a treacherous drop to their right. Kyungsoo feels a little of his confidence slip; between the slick of the snow and his poor eyesight, he has a feeling his life will end with a tumble over this precipice, but Jongin is urging them on and he doesn’t have the luxury of imagining his death. He swallows his fear (as best as he can) and starts to walk (he makes sure to push past Jaehwan and Moonkyu so he’s right behind Jongin; if he falls, so does Jongin).

Most of the morning is spent like this (well, Kyungsoo assumes it’s morning, but the sky is thick with clouds), slow progress over narrow roads that always look out over the valley. His footing is still reliable; his marching steady, and the snow is only a nuisance that tries to clog his nose every time he inhales. He’s actually sweating by the time Jongin decides they can take a break. At noon, they stop for a drink of water and some food, but Jongin doesn’t let them rest much; he warns of freezing to death, and has them back on their feet before their bodies have a chance to cool down.

More paths, more snow, flurries that cling to Kyungsoo’s lashes. An hour (maybe two, he doesn’t know anymore) after their lunch, the cold takes over. His feet hurt since well before lunch, but now the pain is gone, just an uncomfortable numbness. His cheeks feel ready to crack and his hands have gone stiff. The cold has reached his bones. For one ridiculous moment, he thinks he’ll die never feeling warmth again, but then he remembers how much the other students love to gloat at his supposed frailty and he’s spurred on. But only for a bit. Spite burns quickly, and soon Kyungsoo’s feet are too numb for him to walk well.

He stumbles often, ankles twisting dangerously, feet skidding closer to the precipice than he would like. On a steep, ragged, iced-over step, he falls entirely to his knees, hissing as the rocks rattle his bones. Only a few steps later, he doesn’t see the hole in the ground and falls, but in his desperation he reaches out for Jongin; he misses, stiff fingers treacherously letting the leather straps of Jongin’s pack slip through, and he ends up on all fours, staring at the whiteness of his hands. He knows he has pale skin, but his cold-addled mind seems to think he’s become a canvas, a sheet of parchment, dry and brittle and ready to be cut down to the proper size. He tries to curl his fingers in the crust of hardened snow, but Jongin hauls him back to his feet. Kyungsoo knows he should protest; Jongin picked him up far too easily, and it would have been embarrassing at any other moment, but it’s overshadowed by the temptation to ask Jongin for an embrace, if only to leech warmth from him body.

“To stop is to die,” says Jongin.

Kyungsoo doesn’t react. Jongin’s jaw tightens, and there’s the smallest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but he turns and resumes his steady march.

Kyungsoo tries stuffing his hands under his armpits, but all of him is freezing. Snow piles onto his pack, soaks his hair, makes it’s way down his neck, clogs his eyelashes. He breathes snow. He shivers violently, but that only tires him more. He feels as if his core has turned to solid ice (he also feels poetic, but that’s probably the cold dulling everything else in his mind). His heart pounds against his chest in desperation, as if the intensity with which it beat would be enough to save him from succumbing to the slow loss of life in his limbs. Then he thinks perhaps he’s being a bit melodramatic; he’s not _dying_. Except as he stumbles through the snow, his pace erratic, his eyes narrowed against the wintry wind, continuing only because it takes more work to make a decision than it does to keep moving, he thinks _fuck_ , maybe I _am_. That’s enough to kill the poet in his mind and make the realist take over.

“J-jongin,” he says, but his voice is lost in the wind.

The path widens, and Kyungsoo’s sure this would, in other circumstances, be a rest place, but Jongin seems to take no notice of this and skirts the center.

“Jongin, I can’t do this,” Kyungsoo whines.

Jongin turns around and looks at him, hunched in on himself, hands underneath armpits, trembling visibly.

“To stop is to die,” he repeats.

Kyungsoo’s heart would sink if it could, but it’s too cold even for that. Even the desire to punch Jongin’s pretty face dies fast; the mere thought of it is too exhausting.

“I can’t go any farther,” Kyungsoo repeats.

Jongin gives him a hard look.

“What would you do if the palace was under attack and you had to flee to the mountains?” he snaps. “What would you do?”

“I would die,” Kyungsoo says as evenly as he can manage.

This throws Jongin off. He gives Kyungsoo a perplexed look.

“I’m going back,” Kyungsoo declares (he likes to think it’s a declaration but it’s too weak to sound like one).

“You can’t go alone.”

“Then come with me,” Kyungsoo sniffles.

“The longer we stand here, the higher the chance you’ll freeze to death. We need to _keep moving_ ,” Jongin hisses.

“I _can’t_ ,” Kyungsoo says through gritted teeth.

“Stop being so fucking soft,” Jongin snaps.

Kyungsoo wants to be offended at this, but that takes up too much energy. He just stands there, miserably, until Jongin tries to pull him forward. He stumbles, falls into Jongin’s chest, and stays there.

“You’re going to be the death of all of us,” Jongin hisses.

“Well, I’m already dying so it’s only fair,” Kyungsoo stutters; he tries to smile but his lips crack.

“We need to _move_ , for fuck’s sake,” says Jongin, but Kyungsoo doesn’t hear the rest because it starts to get dim, and Jongin’s face blurs (he’s sad about that, such a pretty face, he just wants to look), and his heart decides to gallop to fight the cold that’s finally threatening it but it’s too late; Kyungsoo sighs, his legs give out, and the world goes black.

 

~

 

When Kyungsoo comes to, he’s in his room, wrapped in a multitude of blankets. His clothes are clean, and a cup of tea steams on the small table next to the bed. He reaches for it, his fingertips gingerly testing the heat; it’s too much, and he slips his hand back under the sheets.

“How are you feeling?”

Jongin’s voice startles him; he hates being startled. Between that and the look of mild concern on Jongin’s face, it’s enough to make Kyungsoo scowl at him.

“Don’t see why you would care,” he grumbles into the blankets, pulling them closer.

Jongin walks in anyway, uninvited and unbothered by Kyungsoo’s piercing glare. He kneels by Kyungsoo’s side, and Kyungsoo is the one bothered by the directness of his stare. Then he looks away and crosses his legs.

“You aren’t meant for this kind of training,” Jongin says, staring far too intensely at the seam of his sock. “Your father made a mistake sending you here.”

“The king doesn’t make mistakes,” Kyungsoo snarls.

He doesn’t believe it, but he’s too angry at Jongin to agree with him, however right he may be. Jongin gives him a level look.

“All you’ve done is make my life miserable since I arrived,” he snaps when Jongin says nothing.

“I treat you no differently than I do any other student here,” he says. “But I failed you. As future captain of your guard-” Kyungsoo snorts at this, “-it is my responsibility to care for you wellbeing, and I didn’t.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” Kyungsoo grumbles, sitting up as best he can.

Jongin gives him a strange look then, cautious, unsure. It’s odd to see him displaying such insecurity, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. He looks away, and Kyungsoo hates that his heart still jumps a little at the sight of Jongin’s magnificent profile glowing in the candlelight.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin says, his voice so soft Kyungsoo almost doesn’t catch it.

Kyungsoo just sulks, because that’s what he’s good at, complete with a petulant pout until— oh. Jongin has cupped his cheek, fingertips bestowing soft ministrations, gentle, tiny strokes that make heat bloom across Kyungsoo’s cheek. Kyungsoo tries to glare at him, but he ends up looking like an apologetic toddler.

“The truth is I’m hard on you because of me,” Jongin continues. “I was afraid of falling for you. I don’t know why. It doesn’t make any sense to me, honest. You’re an insufferable, spoiled brat.” Kyungsoo’s lip curls; of course he had to ruin it. “You know it’s true. Yet I’m drawn to you. The moment I laid eyes on you, surly and haughty and unbearably disdainful-” he ignores Kyungsoo’s growl of protest, “-but so incredibly fucking vulnerable, I knew it would be inevitable. I hoped my surliness would be enough to make you intolerable, make you act in a way that made you undesirable, but _fuck_ Kyungsoo, you make it so difficult. I thought seeing you fail, seeing you lash out at me with your tantrums and your fits would help me harden my heart but it didn’t.” Jongin resumes stroking Kyungsoo’s cheek with his thumb. Kyungsoo wishes this small gesture didn’t affect him so much, but he knows his cheeks are incredibly red. “For the first time I wanted to know what it was like to be with someone.”

Jongin’s speech makes his already disordered mind short circuit. When Jongin takes his hand away, Kyungsoo twines his fingers with Jongin’s, keeping them on his cheek.

“Then be with me,” says Kyungsoo.

He doesn’t know where that boldness came from, but he thinks he likes it. Jongin blushes, a dusting of deep pink under the gold of his skin.

“I’m not supposed to,” he says timidly.

“Why not?”

“Relationships are discouraged. The emotions that come with it can be distracting for students here,” Jongin explains. “Even casual sex isn’t really supposed to be a thing. Too many risks. Not to mention you’re a _prince._ I’m going to be your guard soon, and there’s no way a guard can be involved in a romantic relationship with the person he’s protecting.”

“And why not?” Kyungsoo knows he sounds like a child, whining like this.

“It can cloud my judgement,” Jongin glances at Kyungsoo now, a timid peek, before looking away. “I might get reckless if you’re ever in danger.”

“That sounds like a load of horse shit to me.”

“It’s not,” Jongin insists.

A pause, in which Jongin pulls his hand away from Kyungsoo’s and starts to tug at a loose string on his sleeve. It’s cute to see him like this, vulnerable and bashful. Then Kyungsoo gets a stupid idea in his head.

“Do you love me?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“No.”

Kyungsoo’s heart drops. Well, it was his own fault for asking, but he still sniffles.

“But it won’t be long before I do,” Jongin adds.

Kyungsoo looks at him, takes in the beautiful, tigrine eyes, the fullness of his lips (he wants a kiss, oh, how he wants a kiss), the dusting of pink still in his cheeks, the softness in his features that Kyungsoo had never noticed before.

“Kiss me,” he says.

Jongin’s eyes widen.

“I- we shouldn’t,” he splutters. “We shouldn’t be encouraging this.”

“Then what did you confess for?” Kyungsoo grumbles.

Jongin laughs (that’s his laugh, I’m hearing him laugh, Kyungsoo thinks) (it’s a dorky laugh. Kyungsoo immediately loves it).

“Because I wanted you to know,” he says, suddenly bashful.

“Fine, what about one kiss,” Kyungsoo says. “You owe me after today.”

“Yesterday,” Jongin corrects.

“What?”

“You’ve fainted yesterday,” and Kyungsoo knows that’s definitely guilt in Jongin’s voice.

“Well, then make it two kisses,” he declares.

“It’s not—”

“Allowed, yes I heard you the first time,” Kyungsoo scoffs. “But I’m a prince of Joseon, and _I_ can do whatever I want. And I want to kiss you.”

Jongin stares at him, a mix of incredulity and amusement on his face. Kyungsoo likes seeing him so expressive.

“It’s not that simple, Kyungsoo,” he says softly.

“It can be,” Kyungsoo says with a sniff.

Jongin rolls his eyes, and wow, he looks hot when he’s annoyed.

“I didn’t get to be the best by sheer luck,” says Jongin. “I work my ass off, I follow all the rules _without exception_ -” he adds when Kyungsoo pouts, “and that requires sacrifice. I can’t let desire, no matter how strong it may be, ruin all this effort.”

But Kyungsoo wants to be selfish; he wants to ignore Jongin’s rationality _and he wants a kiss_. So he sniffs again and folds his arms across his chest.

“Besides,” Jongin continues, and Kyungsoo looks at him, “If I were ever to jeopardize all my work, I’d make sure it was for something I _know_ is worthwhile. A lasting, loving relationship. I don’t want to throw it all away to be a spoiled princeling’s toy.”

Kyungsoo’s stiff with rage; he doesn’t bother hiding the intensity of it when he shoots Jongin a deathly glare. Jongin looks reserved, but it’s different from his usual reticence; he’s worried, almost vulnerable looking, but his words have touched a nerve in Kyungsoo. If Jongin wants a spoiled princeling, he’ll get a spoiled princeling.

Kyungsoo stands, but it’s too much and the lightheadedness he didn’t know he had nearly sends him crashing back to the floor. He grips his head, legs trembling, and swears when he feels the prickle of tears forming.

“What makes you think I don’t want something worthwhile?” Kyungsoo asks bitterly.

When he looks up, Jongin looks contrite, the mix of shame and gloom in his eyes prompting Kyungsoo to start to cry (not because he feels bad for Jongin, but because it’s too much to hold in, and he’s tired of it all).

“I’m sorry—”

“Leave me alone,” Kyungsoo blubbers, sinking to his knees.

It’s quiet, and because Kyungsoo is curled up he thinks Jongin has left, but then he feels the warmth of Jongin by his side and the gentle (but awkward) hand on his back, rubbing circles.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says softly.

He doesn’t want to look up; he just falls into Jongin’s embrace, burying his face in the rough black fabric of Jongin’s chest until the sobs subside. Then he stays there, pressed against the comforting beat of Jongin’s heart.

“Stay the night,” Kyungsoo murmurs.

He feels Jongin go stiff.

“That might not be wise—”

“I’m _lonely_ , for fuck’s sake. I just need someone here,” Kyungsoo says through gritted teeth.

Jongin doesn’t respond; instead he runs his fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair until Kyungsoo softens his hold on Jongin’s arm.

“Okay.”

Kyungsoo uncurls, blinking up at Jongin through clumped eyelashes.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

Jongin smiles at him, a sweet, warm smile that makes Kyungsoo melt, and wipes the tears that still stain Kyungsoo’s cheeks.

“You should sleep,” says Jongin. “I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

Kyungsoo hums in agreement, but a yawn interrupts it; he scowls at Jongin’s giggle, but it’s a playful scowl. He curls up on the bed, watching Jongin with one eye as the other pulls the blankets over him, but the exhaustion of emotions is too much and he drifts off to sleep.

 

Dinner is brought to the room, which Kyungsoo is grateful for; the last thing he would’ve wanted was to cross the whole school to sit in a hall full of rowdy guys just to eat. There’s a portion for Jongin, too, which also pleases Kyungsoo; he’d been afraid he’d wake up to an empty room, and the fear that Jongin will change his mind and leave still troubles his thoughts.

They eat in relative silence, and it feels almost ridiculous. Jongin glances shyly at Kyungsoo, and looks away bashfully when he realizes Kyungsoo has noticed; Kyungsoo, on the other hand, is blatant about his staring, drinking in all the details of Jongin he can. He wants to study Jongin as he would a work of art; the bump on the bridge of his nose, the length of his elegant fingers, the bulge of his cheeks when he stuffs a spoonful of rice in his mouth. It makes Jongin blush, and Kyungsoo loves that too.

After they eat, they drink tea and eat kkul-tarae (which Kyungsoo suspects is the headmaster’s form of an apology). Jongin takes a sip from his cup, his cheek still bulging with the half-chewed sweet.

“I still want a kiss,” says Kyungsoo, watching Jongin pause, his lips comically pursed.

“We _shouldn’t_ ,” he said firmly.

Kyungsoo smiles impishly.

“I’m just asking for a _kiss_ , Jongin,” he says. “I’m not asking you to fuck me. Although I want that too.”

Jongin inhales sharply and coughs. It takes all Kyungsoo’s control to not smile, but he fails spectacularly; he tries biting his lip, but the smile forms anyway.

“You’re unbearable,” Jongin groans.

That’s enough to make Kyungsoo giggle.

“Unbearably cute and kissable, yes, I know,” he says with a nod.

Jongin shakes his head and rubs at his temples.

“Alright, _one_ kiss, if only to get you to shut up about it,” he grumbles.

Kyungsoo beams at him, shifting onto his knees to lean forward. Jongin can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up and it feeds Kyungsoo’s ego to know that he can do this to Jongin now; he can break past that stony exterior.

“It’s alright, I’ll forgive you when you beg for more,” Kyungsoo says haughtily, giving Jongin a flirty smile when the other sputters.

“Come here,” he growls, and cups Kyungsoo’s face in his hands.

The kiss is soft. Gentle, really, for all Jongin’s gruffness before. And Jongin’s lips are as soft and warm and enticing as Kyungsoo thought they would be. He props his hands on Jongin’s thighs (perhaps sitting like this wasn’t the best idea) and deepens the kiss, chasing after Jongin when the other leans back. But then his thighs start to tremble and he needs air (and he curses the fact that he needs to breathe he just wants to drink in Jongin forever) so he pulls back. Just a bit, just enough for them to part and catch their breath; the puffs of Jongin’s breath against his bottom lips almost make him dive for another kiss, but when he leans forward Jongin leans back.

“One,” he says. “One. Just one.”

Kyungsoo swallows hard, licks his lips, and decides _fuck it_ , this is a chance he’s willing to take. He straddles Jongin’s lap and twines his fingers in Jongin’s hair to pull him in for another kiss, a deeper kiss, to taste him (he tastes of tea and kkul-tarae and Kyungsoo wants more). Jongin nearly falls back, but once the shock wears away and the slump of defeat leaves his shoulders (really, did he think it would only be _one_?) he wraps an arm around Kyungsoo’s waist. Kyungsoo lets his hands fall to cup Jongin’s face, to tilt his face up so he could suck on Jongin’s bottom lip and Jongin lets out the softest of moans and _fuck_ that sends a shiver down Kyungsoo’s spine. Then Jongin’s tongue is breaching the seam of Kyungsoo’s lips (and the fact that he’s taken initiative makes Kyungsoo moan) and it’s a mess of tongue and the sound of soft sucking and breathy moans until they pull apart (too soon, always too soon, and Kyungsoo chases after Jongin’s lips again). There’s a string of saliva from Kyungsoo’s bottom lip to Jongin’s and Jongin, with his slightly ragged breaths, hasn’t noticed. Kyungsoo wipes it from Jongin’s lips and lets his finger drag across the swollen pink.

“It was supposed to be one,” he says, his voice rough.

Kyungsoo looks at him with hooded eyes, his smile too smug to let the bashfulness show.

“I _did_ ask for two, actually. One for each day I was knocked out because of you,” he says, nipping at Jongin’s top lip. Jongin inhales sharply, licking his lips when Kyungsoo sits back.

“Alright,” he says, “Okay, that’s fine. B-but that’s it. No more, okay?”

He’s finally recovering from the daze, the gloss of lust still in his eyes and Kyungsoo desperately wants to kiss him again, to grind down on his lap until they cum, but he doesn’t. He has Jongin’s interest, if the shy glances to Kyungsoo’s lips are anything to go by. So Kyungsoo decides to tease him instead; he’s good at this, at being coy and desirable (he’s never done it to someone he actually wants to fuck though, usually just to get his way). He caresses Jongin’s cheek and presses a kiss to Jongin’s nose (Jongin flinches at this, no doubt expecting another passionate onslaught).

“I suppose we could just leave it at that,” Kyungsoo chirps, beaming at him.

Jongin swallows hard, and Kyungsoo knows he’s still processing what happened, but that turns into dubious resolve.

“We _will_ leave it at that,” says Jongin, but it lacks the confidence from before the kiss.

Kyungsoo bounces on Jongin’s lap, a little victory dance, and grins wickedly when Jongin rushes to put both hands on his waist to stay him.

“Mm, okay,” he says, rubbing their noses together.

Jongin groans, trying to muster a dirty look but he ends up looking annoyed.

“You need to rest,” he says gruffly.

Kyungsoo smiles and slides off Jongin’s lap, stretching out onto the bed. He pats the space next to him.

“You’re still staying the night,” he says, smiling when Jongin sighs.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he grumbles, taking off his uniform.

Kyungsoo watches, perhaps a little too intently (but really, since when do princes need to behave with restraint) as Jongin peels off the layer of black to reveal the un-dyed cotton underneath. The sleeves hug at the muscles of his arms and Kyungsoo wants to see them bare, but he knows better than to push it, so he rolls to his side to let Jongin lie down.

“Don’t you want to blow out the candles?” he asks.

Kyungsoo shrugs.

“They’ll go out in a bit anyway,” he replies, snuggling close to Jongin’s side.

The other seems a little stiff, but when Kyungsoo rests his cheek on Jongin’s chest, he relaxes.

“Good night, little prince.”

Kyungsoo huffs and smacks Jongin’s chest lightly.

“Good night, asshat.”


	4. Freckles Like the Constellations

**(AN: this is the longest chapter yet, and the most challenging to write so far....so i hope you guys really like it. also, in case you don't like reading sex scenes, THIS CHAPTER HAS SMUT. IN FACT IT'S LIKE 90% SMUT. YE HATH BEEN WARNED!!! but if you like it (or don't like it), as always, i appreciate comments!!)**

 

He’s being insufferable and he knows it. Kyungsoo’s sprawled on the floor, courtesy of Jongin’s uncanny ability to detect any imbalance in Kyungsoo’s posture, but he has the upper hand. He looks up at Jongin, who raises an eyebrow, then he stretches; when his back cracks, he lets out a soft moan.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says, and the warning is clear in his voice.

But Kyungsoo’s feeling wicked, so he flutters his eyelashes at Jongin.

“Yes?”

Jongin folds his arms across his chest, unmoved by Kyungsoo’s cheekiness.

“You’d be dead by now if this was an actual fight with an opponent,” says Jongin.

“Guess it’s a good thing you’re not my enemy,” Kyungsoo retorts, smiling brilliantly when Jongin’s nostrils flare. Almost imperceptible, but Kyungsoo’s been studying Jongin’s gorgeous face too intently for these past few months to miss something like this.

“Up, _now_ ,” Jongin says, lip curled.

Kyungsoo’s response is to lift a hand for help, holding it there when Jongin stares.

“Won’t you help your delicate princeling?” Kyungsoo asks, fluttering his eyelashes again.

Perhaps the wrong choice. Jongin lifts him off the floor rather brusquely, smiling at Kyungsoo’s yelp.

“Stop,” Jongin whispers as he walks past Kyungsoo, low enough for Jaehwan and Moonkyu to miss it.

Kyungsoo knows what it means. Stop flirting; stop acting like the petulant and coddled prince he was; stop testing Jongin’s patience in front of other people. He can’t help it. Now that he’s finally chipped the (previously) impenetrable armor of Jongin’s cold façade, he can’t help but find others cracks and worm his way into them. So he pouts magnificently when Jongin takes up his fighting stance again.

“My ass hurts,” Kyungsoo whines.

Jongin rolls his eyes.

“Tough luck.”

Kyungsoo stomps his right foot, mustering his best offended look.

“What if you shove me onto the floor again?”

Jongin sighs, but doesn’t fall for it.

“That’s why we teach you to roll when you fall. If you decided to splatter on the floor like a dropped pumpkin, you don’t get to complain about the impact,” and Kyungsoo notices the mischievous glint in Jongin’s eyes. “Besides,” he moves closer, “I think you have enough ass to cushion your falls and remain unharmed. Now get into the proper stance.”

Kyungsoo sucks his teeth; he doesn’t know if he should hate that Jongin dodged his whines or preen because Jongin finally ( _finally_ ) complimented his ass. He drops into the proper stance anyway, grumbling when Jongin feints left. The fight doesn’t last long; in six moves, Jongin straddles Kyungsoo and pins his arms above him, grinning wolfishly in triumph.

“Six moves, that’s a record for you,” says Jongin, wiggling an eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck me,” Kyungsoo spits back.

And then they notice. Jaehwan and Moonkyu have stopped their practicing to look at them, and Kyungsoo is acutely aware of Jongin’s weight and heat on top of him. Now if only they were alone…

But Jongin rolls off of him in an instant, jaw tight; Kyungsoo knows he won’t be getting any kisses tonight, not with the anger that simmers in Jongin’s eyes. With a resigned sigh, he gets to his knees, ready to be dismissed for lunch.

 

The days are often like this; if it doesn’t end well, Kyungsoo gets an earful, heated glares and justifications for Jongin’s reluctance for them to be together (that always hurts and chips away at Kyungsoo’s fragile hope); if it ends well and Kyungsoo hasn’t been too cocky, too obvious in his flirtations, Jongin’s visits end in the heat of exploring hands and heavy kisses (reluctant at first, always, because Jongin repeats “we shouldn’t be doing this”).

 

On one of these nights the floor is warm, which is why Kyungsoo is starfished on it, head snugly between Jongin’s thighs. He has a nice view of Jongin’s neck from this angle, and he admires the lines of it, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, until Jongin looks down, face flushed and a little embarrassed.

“You stare a lot,” he mumbles.

Kyungsoo giggles, reaching up to touch the warmth of Jongin’s cheeks.

“I like to appreciate beauty.”

Jongin groans.

“That’s just corny,” he grumbles.

Kyungsoo tugs one of Jongin’s locks of hair.

“Kissing isn’t corny,” he says a little breathlessly.

Jongin looks down at him, brow furrowed in worry.

“I-” he pauses, sighing, “I still don’t think we should be encouraging this.”

Kyungsoo sits up and turns to face him, his hands on Jongin’s thighs.

“Isn’t it more distracting this way?” Kyungsoo asks.

Jongin blinks at him, the confusion clear in his eyes.

“What?”

“I mean isn’t it more distracting to wonder what it’s like to have sex with me?”

Jongin sputters.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Kyungsoo cannot help the impish smile that forms on his lips.

“Isn’t it more distracting,” he starts again, “to wonder what it’s like for me to suck you off? To wonder what it’s like to have my lips wrapped around you, to taste yourself on me? To wonder what it’s like to fuck me until I’m moaning your name—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jongin hisses, but Kyungsoo’s done what he wanted to; there’s the crease of indecision on Jongin’s brow, and the subtle gleam of lust that’s gone when Jongin shakes his head. “What makes you think I’m wondering all of this anyway?”

Kyungsoo feigns hurt, peering at Jongin through his lashes until Jongin gives him a hard look.

“You mean you don’t want me?” he asks, curling his fingers in Jongin’s thighs.

Jongin sucks his teeth.

“You’re impossible.”

“Is that a no?”

Jongin shoots him a scowl, his jaw tight, and Kyungsoo has to fight down the giggle.

“Yes, I do. But-” he adds, before Kyungsoo can squeal in delight, “there’s no way the thought is more distracting than actually…” He trails off, his cheeks reddening.

“More distracting than actually cumming inside of me?” Kyungsoo finishes, guffawing when Jongin hisses at him. “It’s distracting for me too, y’know.”

Jongin gives him a skeptical look.

“I mean it. You’re the first person I actually want to be-,” Kyungsoo sucks in his breath, “be vulnerable with,” he finishes quietly.

The skeptical look stays, and _ouch_ he hadn’t expected that look to hurt so much. Now he feels stupid, foolish for admitting this; he curls around his legs, and he knows he looks childish sulking this way, but he doesn’t care. Jongin reaches for him, but Kyungsoo shies away.

“Hey,” Jongin say softly, and Kyungsoo, because he’s Kyungsoo and he’s soft and too willing to throw himself at Jongin’s feet, looks up to meet the unexpected gentleness of Jongin’s eyes.

And Kyungsoo, because he’s Kyungsoo, absolutely melts.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to doubt you. Well, not much,” he looks rather guilty now, taking Kyungsoo’s hands in his own. “I don’t want to sleep with you because I don’t know what that means for me. My life has revolved around this school, around being the most obedient, the most hardworking. You’ve disrupted my life in so many ways, and I’m honestly just trying to salvage the last of it. If we-” Jongin sighs, caressing Kyungsoo’s cheek. “If I open up to you like this, if I let you infiltrate my life in such an intimate way…” he pauses, searching for the right words, and Kyungsoo, in his desperation, digs his nails into the palms of his hands. “If I do that, I lose myself.”

Kyungsoo waits for Jongin to meet his eyes and studies the distress, the conflict between vulnerability and the desperate tug of self-preservation, before he takes Jongin’s hands in his.

“Would losing yourself to love really be so bad?” Kyungsoo asks, holding steady when Jongin gives him a wide-eyed look.

“L-love? I-”

“Don’t love me yet, I know,” Kyungsoo says, smiling away the hurt. “But there’s no reason why we can’t lose ourselves in each other.”

Jongin looks skeptical, and Kyungsoo knows he’s too rational to give in like this.

“No reason why we can’t be vulnerable with each other,” he continues. “I know I can be reckless sometimes, impulsive and little careless-” Jongin snorts at this, “-but I feel like I don’t _need_ to worry when I’m around you. You’re the only one I trust to see the unpolished parts of me, the parts of me that aren’t quite whole; I feel-” Kyungsoo sighs, his shoulders slumping, “I feel safe with you.”

Jongin just looks at him, and the weight of his gaze makes Kyungsoo crumple further. Kyungsoo knows what this particular silence means (Jongin is a man of silences; Kyungsoo’s still figuring them out); he readies his heart for the inevitable rejection, the ache of loneliness that will follow, but instead Jongin pulls Kyungsoo close, so that Kyungsoo has to climb onto Jongin’s lap.

“If doing _this_ doesn’t work-”

Kyungsoo perks up at this, and grins.

“Doing me, you mean?”

He hears Jongin’s huff and giggles.

“If doing _you_ doesn’t work and your little theory is a sham, I’m going to make training hell, understood?” Jongin says, trying to sound menacing but failing.

Kyungsoo scoffs.

“Training is already hell.”

Jongin’s eyebrows shoot up, and he gives Kyungsoo an amused smile.

“I’m being soft on you.”

It’s Kyungsoo’s turn to look skeptical, grumbling until Jongin kisses him, and, oh, Jongin is taking the reins and that makes Kyungsoo all types of hot and bothered. It’s not long before Kyungsoo is clinging to him, drinking in the taste of Jongin fervently. When they part for air (and Kyungsoo wishes, desperately and stupidly, that he didn’t need to breathe) Jongin grins.

“I’m being soft on you, but that can change,” he says while he drags his thumb across Kyungsoo’s bottom lip.

(Kyungsoo definitely did _not_ get hard just from that). But Kyungsoo’s never been good with words, and his brain is too scrambled by lust to think properly so he tangles a hand in Jongin’s hair and kisses him again (the other hand is trying - and failing - to untie Jongin’s shirt) and _fuck_ it feels good to taste Jongin, to moan softly when Jongin kneads his ass, but-

But then Jongin is pushing him off.

“W-wha-”

“Clothes, Kyungsoo,” Jongin says with a wry smile.

Kyungsoo grumbles, but now the restricting white of the shirt comes off and Kyungsoo can’t help but be excited because he’s been dying for a chance to drink in the gold of Jongin’s muscles (and properly look, and touch, and taste, not the furtive, not-very-subtle glances when they bathed). And, oh. He’s beautiful. The ripple of muscle under bronzed skin, the beauty marks on his left side two beacons in the expanse of the muscled, sun-browned sea; a temptation, in other words. Kyungsoo places his hand on Jongin’s chest and lets it rest there, lets it ride the soft up and down of Jongin’s breaths and lets it feel the steady beat of Jongin’s heart. Until he decides he wants to explore. He drags his fingertips down Jongin’s abs (it takes all his strength not to lick him) and lets them rest at the waistband of Jongin’s pants. Jongin raises an eyebrow at him, but it’s easy to see the hint of nervousness in his eyes, in the quick lick of his lips. In a moment of forwardness (he has a lot of these around Jongin), Kyungsoo slides his hand back up and runs his fingertips over Jongin’s nipple, smiling when Jongin wriggles.

They kiss again, slow and hot and deep, as Kyungsoo’s hands roam Jongin’s chest and abs, with the occasional toying of Jongin’s nipples. He loves the little hitches in Jongin’s breath when he does that, and when they pull apart he tweaks one again, biting his lip at the glint of lust in Jongin’s eyes.

“I want to taste you,” says Kyungsoo, his fingers dancing along Jongin’s waistband again.

Jongin’s eyes flash and he sucks in his breath, watching Kyungsoo’s hands fiddle with the tie of his pants.

“I want to see you too,” says Jongin. “Then…”

He glances at Kyungsoo’s lips and blushes. Kyungsoo blushes too, unable to contain the smile that crinkles his eyes.

“Okay.”

But he doesn’t move. He’s overcome by a sudden shyness at the thought of Jongin seeing him naked (because the baths don’t count, he reminds himself). So he sits there, tugging half-heartedly at the tie of Jongin’s pants until Jongin undoes Kyungsoo’s shirt tie with one quick pull. He lets the shirt hang open until Kyungsoo blushes, slowly taking off one side to expose his shoulder. He thought he’d be in a rush, lost in the heat of longing, but the weight of Jongin’s fervent gaze made him timid. That is, until Jongin helps him out, tugging at the other side of the shirt to expose Kyungsoo to the warm candlelight. Despite the warmth of the room, his nipples harden and goosebumps form on his arms; exposure is enough to make him cold.

But Jongin sees this and leans close, kissing Kyungsoo once before placing a kiss on his cheek. Then one on his neck, another at the juncture of neck and chest, and another on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. He slows down, starts with soft kisses, just the brush of warm lips against sensitive skin, but then he parts his lips and oh, Kyungsoo shivers in pleasure. Jongin presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along Kyungsoo’s neck, and when he gets to Kyungsoo’s shoulder he sinks his teeth gently into the pale flesh. Kyungsoo sighs, relaxing under Jongin’s mouth and touch (Jongin’s hands have settled at Kyungsoo’s waist, which makes Kyungsoo’s cheeks warm). The timidness ebbs with each kiss, until Kyungsoo feels the need to touch, to press himself against Jongin skin to skin, so he brings Jongin up for a kiss and reaches for the ties of Jongin’s pants.

(He realizes it’s probably easier to undress if they’re not kissing, but he’s unwilling to stop).

Jongin falls back, lifting his hips for Kyungsoo to pull off his pants, squawking when Kyungsoo takes his underwear too (he realizes it’s also probably easier if Jongin’s legs weren’t so long but he’s not going to complain about _that_ ). And then he stares. Probably for longer than he should have, given that now Jongin is squirming and red-eared and wiggling his toes. But Kyungsoo takes his time, running his palms up Jongin’s thighs until they rest under them, nearly pressed against Jongin’s ass, and he leans until he’s a hair’s breadth away from Jongin’s half-hard dick. He stops then, and meets Jongin’s apprehensive eyes; Jongin gives him a shy smile and bites his lower lip.

It’s almost worrisome, how strong the desire to taste Jongin is, but Kyungsoo reminds himself he wants to take it slow, so he wraps a hand around Jongin’s shaft and gives a tentative stroke, eyes fixated on the head when he pulls the foreskin down. It’s glistening with precum, and Kyungsoo takes an experimental lick, eyes widening when Jongin shudders under him. He decides he likes the curious gleam in Jongin’s eyes, and the way it mixes with the pleasure already there, so he licks again. But it’s still not quite enough; he wraps his lips around the head and sucks gently, closing his eyes when Jongin gasps.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin breathes, watching intently as Kyungsoo pops off and kisses the slit.

He smiles at Jongin, then takes the head into his mouth again, swirls his tongue around it, sucks, laps at the slit. He mouths his way down the shaft, and, after glancing at Jongin’s parted lips and lust-glossed eyes, decides to go down further, placing kitten licks on Jongin’s balls until Jongin throws his head back.

“Please don’t tease,” he moans, scrunching his nose when Kyungsoo lazily sucks on one of Jongin’s balls. “Ah- Kyung _soo_.”

Kyungsoo obliges, giving one last lick before he mouths at the underside of the head (but of course, he files that away for later; the curiosity would gnaw at him - can he make Jongin cum just by licking and sucking his balls?). Jongin’s fully hard now, head glistening with precum and Kyungsoo’s saliva; deep pink and tantalizing; Kyungsoo indulges his craving and starts to suck again, relishing in the soft, almost reluctant moans Jongin lets out.

Until Jongin stops him, that is. A strangled moan and a strong hand holding his neck.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll-” Jongin lets out a huff.

Oh. He’ll cum. The thought makes Kyungsoo giddy; he’s the cause of this. Jongin is close to cumming because of _him_. And because he has the taste of Jongin in his mouth, clean and warm and the slightest bit salty. So he edges off, but gives the head one last open-mouthed kiss.

“Fuck,” Jongin says, touching Kyungsoo’s swollen lips gently.

Kyungsoo lets himself be guided up to Jongin’s lips, lets Jongin taste himself in Kyungsoo’s mouth, lets Jongin undo the tie in his pants (he’s surprisingly patient, despite how hard he is).

“I want to touch you.”

And now Kyungsoo’s back to being shy. It’s Jongin’s voice, rough with desire, and the warm air of the room hitting his half exposed ass; he buries his face in Jongin’s neck, ass perked expectantly as Jongin slides his pants and underwear down. Jongin’s hands squeeze Kyungsoo’s asscheeks once before they settle on Kyungsoo’s dick, and Kyungsoo can’t help the disappointment.

“Not my ass?”

“Huh?” Jongin asks rather absentmindedly.

He’s stroking Kyungsoo’s dick, dark eyes watching Kyungsoo pant a little.

“I-I thought you were going t-to touch my ass,” he stutters, hissing when Jongin cups his balls.

“I can’t,” Jongin says brusquely, but it’s not mean (he’s just concentrated, smearing precum on his thumb as he touches the slit). “No lube.”

“Wait, stop,” says Kyungsoo, because Jongin’s fingers are too skilled and he can’t think straight.

Jongin stops and rests his hands on Kyungsoo’s thighs, and Kyungsoo has to fight the blush that blooms in his cheeks when he feels Jongin smear precum on his skin (unintentional, but so is the arousal he gets from it).

“What makes you think I don’t have lube?”

Jongin blinks. And stares. Opens his mouth, closes it, then narrows his eyes at Kyungsoo.

“Did you really bring that with you from Hanyang?”

Kyungsoo snorts.

“No, dummy. I got it from the infirmary.”

“You what?!” Jongin sputters. “But we’re not supposed to have sex why would-”

“The head nurse _said_ ,” Kyungsoo starts, crawling to the desk and rummaging around (and grinning, because he knows Jongin is staring at his ass), “she always has available because she was tired of getting bleeding boys- aha!” He pulls out the ceramic container and crawls back to Jongin, placing it between Jongin’s legs.

Jongin lifts the cover and peers at the thick liquid.

“I guess we could..” he says, grinning when Kyungsoo sucks his teeth.

“Of course we can,” says Kyungsoo.

He goes in for a kiss, but Jongin moves and their noses crash.

“Ow,” Jongin rubs at it, giggling. “You should get comfortable.”

He piles the pillows against the wall, but Kyungsoo doesn’t budge.

“It hurts.”

“What does?”

“My nose,” Kyungsoo whines.

Jongin sighs.

“You’re a baby,” he says, but he presses a soft, wet kiss to the bridge of Kyungsoo’s nose.

Kyungsoo beams at him.

“I’m _your_ baby,” he coos, and Jongin groans.

“Get on your back, yah,” he grumbles.

Kyungsoo giggles and makes his way to the head of the bed, arms wrapped around his knees.

“You know you need to spread your legs for me to do anything,” says Jongin, eyebrow raised.

Kyungsoo feels his ears burn and hooks his hands beneath his thighs, slowly parting them. He bites his lip; Jongin’s staring at him, and it’s hard not to feel completely exposed, completely vulnerable like this. But soon Jongin settles between Kyungsoo’s thighs and kisses him, hands kneading the softness of Kyungsoo’s thighs.

“You’re beautiful,” Jongin says softly, and Kyungsoo sucks in his breath.

But before Kyungsoo can get his love-addled brain to think of a response, Jongin’s sucking a hickey onto his neck and brushing his thumb against Kyungsoo’s hole. It’s electrifying. Kyungsoo gasps, fingers digging into his own thighs as Jongin keeps stroking. It’s not long before Kyungsoo forgoes clinging to his own thighs in favor of Jongin’s arms, panting into Jongin’s neck.

“I need more,” he whines, and Jongin smiles.

“Mm, okay.”

Kyungsoo hisses when Jongin presses a lubed finger to his hole.

“Cold,” he grumbles.

Jongin only laughs, rubbing against Kyungsoo’s hole until it warms. Then he pushes it in, watching Kyungsoo lick his lips and wince.

“Painful?”

“Just different,” says Kyungsoo.

It takes few pumps of Jongin’s finger to feel much of anything, but at last he brushes up against the right spot and Kyungsoo’s grips on Jongin’s arms tightens. Jongin watches Kyungsoo’s flushed face as he strokes, grinning when Kyungsoo lets out a low moan.

“ _More_ ,” Kyungsoo sighs.

Jongin slips in another finger and waits for Kyungsoo to adjust before he slowly starts to fuck him. (Kyungsoo has the brief and absurd thought that the man who thought up the phrase ‘spine-tingling’ must have been getting fucked in the ass). It doesn’t take much for Kyungsoo to be a panting mess, squirming and clenching around Jongin’s fingers.

“I want you,” Kyungsoo says, cupping Jongin’s cheek in his hand.

“Shouldn’t I do three-”

Kyungsoo waves his concerns off.

“I’ll be fine.”

Jongin looks reluctant, but slathers his dick with lube and settles between Kyungsoo’s thighs again. He presses his dick against Kyungsoo’s hole, then slowly pushes in and _wow_ Kyungsoo feels full, and now that Jongin is so close the warmth of his body is overwhelming. It’s not quite painful pressure (and Kyungsoo admits a third finger would’ve been a better idea), but it’s enough to make Kyungsoo wince. And Jongin, in his infinite gentleness (Kyungsoo didn’t know he could be this soft, and it makes his heart swell), distracts Kyungsoo with soft, wet kisses and the occasional brush of his nose against Kyungsoo’s cheek.

“Does it hurt much?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“No, I just need a moment,” Kyungsoo replies, trailing his fingertips across Jongin’s cheek.

So for a moment, Jongin tweaks Kyungsoo’s nipples and kisses him deeply, and for a moment he caresses Kyungsoo’s dick, smiling into their kiss when Kyungsoo whimpers.

“Move, _please_ ,” Kyungsoo whispers.

Jongin gives him a deep kiss before he braces his hands against Kyungsoo’s hips, thrusting slowly. At first it’s more of the discomfort, the fullness Kyungsoo isn’t used to, but Jongin readjusts Kyungsoo’s hips and reaches for another kiss as he thrusts and-

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo gasps, his hands flying to the broad expanse of Jongin’s back.

It’s electrifying, but it’s also a dull ache of pleasure, a pressure at once too overwhelming and not enough. The pace Jongin sets is maddening, too slow for the ache to build into something for satisfying, and the sloppy, wet kisses on Kyungsoo’s feverish skin don’t help.

“Why are you so _slow_?” Kyungsoo moans, twitching when Jongin thrusts again.

“I don’t want to- fuck- hurt you,” says Jongin.

“I need more.”

Jongin looks a little worried and Kyungsoo’s amazed he’s still so gentle, even in the haze of lust. It absolutely does _not_ make Kyungsoo want him more.

“Please,” he whimpers against Jongin’s lips.

With a deep kiss, Jongin complies. He starts slow again, two deep thrusts that are excruciatingly slow (but Kyungsoo doesn’t mind _that much_ because Jongin’s eyes are closed and his nose is scrunched in pleasure), then steady fucking, enough for Kyungsoo to scramble to find purchase on Jongin’s smooth back (he fails, but knowing that he’s leaving marks on Jongin’s back makes him even more turned on).

But the more the pressure builds, the faster Jongin fucks him, the more Kyungsoo is lost in his haze of pleasure, the more he realizes just how safe he feels in Jongin’s arms. It’s an odd thought to have, he thinks, when he’s losing his virginity to the hottest man he’s ever laid eyes on, but there’s something about the tenderness of Jongin’s actions (the constant kisses on Kyungsoo’s face, the way Jongin moans softly into Kyungsoo’s neck, the puffs of Jongin’s breath against Kyungsoo’s sensitive nipple) that makes Kyungsoo feel both vulnerable and protected. Jongin’s heat, his strong grip on Kyungsoo’s hips, the soft fuck he whispers into Kyungsoo’s neck; it’s enough for Kyungsoo to realize he’s in love. Irrevocably, truly, deeply in love; he feels, as the pressure of his impending orgasm builds, as if he and Jongin are now an amalgamation of moans and whimpers, of pleasure and love and heat, of tangled limbs glowing with sweat in the candlelight.

“Oh, fuck,” Kyungsoo says breathlessly.

He buries his face in Jongin’s neck, one hand clinging to the back of it; with the other he digs his nails into Jongin’s back, moaning as the orgasm rocks through him. Jongin thrusts shallowly, and it’s only when Kyungsoo goes limp that he realizes Jongin was watching him cum. He blushes, suddenly self-conscious.

“Beautiful,” Jongin whispers, his voice almost reverent, as he starts to thrust again.

It makes him twitch. He’s still feeling the aftershocks of the orgasm, still reveling in the explosive intoxication of cumming (he laments that his hand will never be of much comfort anymore); after a few more thrusts, Jongin cums too, brow furrowed and mouth open as the orgasm courses through him (if Kyungsoo could cum again he would at the sight of Jongin like this, but he can’t, so he settles for placing his hand on Jongin’s chest and wishing he could drink in Jongin’s pleasure this way).

“Beautiful,” Kyungsoo whispers, craning his neck to kiss Jongin’s chin (it’s the only thing he can reach).

“W-was it-” Jongin pauses, indulges Kyungsoo with a wet kiss (too much teeth, not enough tongue, Kyungsoo thinks). “Was it good?” he asks breathlessly.

Kyungsoo hums happily and sighs when Jongin kisses him again.

“Was it good for you?” Kyungsoo asks, pushing back Jongin’s sweaty hair.

“I didn’t realize it could be so intense,” Jongin says, a bashful smile forming on his lips.

“Mm, yeah. I’ve never cum so hard,” Kyungsoo says.

This makes Jongin blush.

“With my hand, dummy,” Kyungsoo adds, tweaking Jongin’s nipples. “What, did you never masturbate?”

Jongin’s blush deepens and he sits up, looking at the spatter of cum on Kyungsoo’s stomach.

“O-only a few times,” he whispers, massaging Kyungsoo’s thighs.

He takes a moment to kiss just inside Kyungsoo’s knee, then presses his cheek against Kyungsoo’s smooth skin.

“Ai, Jongin. Too uptight,” says Kyungsoo, shaking his head in disapproval.

He can’t manage much else; he feels pliant, not steady enough to move and not coherent enough to form longer sentences. So he settles for watching Jongin explore the expanse of pale skin that constitutes Kyungsoo’s thighs, until he settles on Kyungsoo’s hips once more.

“I’m going to-”

“No,” Kyungsoo whines, making a weak grab for Jongin’s wrist. “I’ll be cold if you leave.”

“I just want to clean us up,” says Jongin, smiling at Kyungsoo’s pout. “I promise you’ll feel better if you don’t have cum drying on your stomach.”

He’s right, but Kyungsoo doesn’t want to admit it, so he sniffs and looks away. Until Jongin pulls out. He hisses, immediately missing the fullness of Jongin inside of him; he tries to grab for Jongin’s wrists again, but Jongin has scooted back some, watching the cum leak out of Kyungsoo’s hole.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo whines.

Jongin blinks, licks his lips, looks back at the abstract mess of cum on Kyungsoo’s stomach and the cascade of it that has come out of Kyungsoo’s hole.

“Right, hang on,” he says, reaching for a cloth to wet with water from the pitcher Kyungsoo keeps on the dresser.

He’s quick, wiping Kyungsoo’s stomach first, then lifting Kyungsoo’s hips to clean him properly, all the while peppering Kyungsoo’s nipples and stomach and thighs with kisses. Some of the kisses tickle; by the end of it, Kyungsoo is pink faced and giggling, arms outstretched for Jongin to join him in bed.

It doesn’t take long for the fog of sleep to take over. He’s snuggled in Jongin’s arms, his cheek smushed against Jongin’s chest, and the constant caress of Jongin’s fingers in his hair has lulled him to the pleasant haze of languor. It’s why he says, without much thought, just before he drifts off to sleep: “I love you.”


	5. Sunset In Your Eyes

**(A/N: I KNOW IT'S BEEN A GAJILLION YEARS IM SO SORRY!!!  i wrote three fics for the OLAO fest (if you guys want to check them out) so that kind of absorbed all my time BUT. I am back. With smut. And angst. There will be a lot more angst from here on out, but also smut. anyway comment if you liked it, i'd love to know your thoughts~)**

 

It’s a different kind of comfort. There’s the comfort of familiarity, which he finally feels in the room after four months (he draws the line at calling it _his_ room). There’s the comfort of nostalgia, in the calligraphy kit he’d brought from home, placed on the small wooden table, and in the painting of his favorite garden with the blooms of spring (he’d wanted to paint it for his father, but he liked it so much he ended up keeping it for himself). And now there’s the comfort of intimacy, of safety and warmth. Jongin is still asleep, his face blissful and soft (Kyungsoo wants to kiss the bridge of his nose, but he doesn’t want to wake him). So Kyungsoo settles for pressing a wet kiss to Jongin’s collarbone, then laying his head on Jongin’s chest. The steady beat of Jongin’s heart lulls him to sleep again, eyelashes fluttering against the warmth of Jongin’s chest.

He wakes for the second time when Jongin does; the other is stirring under Kyungsoo, a soft hand caressing the expanse of Kyungsoo’s back. It makes him shiver.

“Morning,” says Kyungsoo, curling up on Jongin to preserve heat.

“Morning,” Jongin mumbles, wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo. “Can’t remember the last time I slept this late.”

They stay like this for a moment, until Kyungsoo feels the inviting tug of sleep again; Jongin doesn’t let it take over. He rolls onto his side, smiling when Kyungsoo yelps and slides off of him.

“Five more minutes,” Kyungsoo whines, snuggling into Jongin’s chest, face buried in Jongin’s neck.

“We’ve slept enough, you spoiled baby,” Jongin chuckles.

Kyungsoo digs his fingers into Jongin’s side in protest and throws a leg over Jongin’s hips for good measure.

“Ten minutes.”

“You’re supposed to go _down_ when you negotiate,” Jongin sputters, trying to pry off Kyungsoo’s leg.

“Go down? I can do that,” Kyungsoo purrs, sliding a hand to touch Jongin.

Jongin pales, nails digging into Kyungsoo’s thigh.

“That is _not_ what I meant and you know it,” he splutters.

Kyungsoo pouts.

“Fine, fifteen minutes of sleep and we can go get breakfast,” Kyungsoo says, burying his face in Jongin’s neck again.

“Wha- no! Up, now,” Jongin’s voice hardens; Kyungsoo has to bite back a laugh. He’s using his training voice, the stern, no-nonsense voice.

Kyungsoo ignores him, sighing as he wraps his arms around Jongin.

“Kyung _soo_ ,” Jongin hisses.

No response. At least, not until Jongin smacks Kyungsoo’s ass. Kyungsoo’s yelp is muffled, his face still buried in Jongin’s chest. He whines, then ends the whine with a moan, pressing his lips against the beat of Jongin’s heart. Jongin sighs and rolls them over, beaming down at Kyungsoo’s pout.

“Breakfast, now,” he says, hissing when Kyungsoo latches onto him as he tries to sit up.

He gives Kyungsoo a hard look, so Kyungsoo lets go, landing back onto the pillow with a groan. He readies himself to complain, but Jongin gets up and stretches, naked and golden; the urge to whine is gone, and Kyungsoo’s suddenly grateful he let go, eyes raking up the length of Jongin’s muscled legs. Jongin notices his stare and blushes, a hand flying down to cover his dick. Kyungsoo smothers a giggle, scrambling to sit up.

“Now we’re even,” he says, hands on his hips.

Jongin bites back a laugh and rolls his eyes, tying up his hair to rinse his face of sleep. Kyungsoo follows, shivering, and presses himself to Jongin’s side. A quick splash of water, a soothing rub with mung bean soap, and a rinse; he rinses his mouth to, in case Jongin wants a kiss. He glances over at Jongin then, blushing when he realizes Jongin’s staring at him. Smug bastard, Kyungsoo thinks, throwing his hair over his shoulder. But when Kyungsoo bends over again, he yelps, nearly face planting into the bowl of water. Jongin had grabbed his ass, kneading his cheeks before he placed a kiss on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. The prince giggles, suddenly shy, until Jongin’s finger brushes against his hole. He gasps, heat rushing to his ears.

“I th-thought you said we were going to breakfast now,” Kyungsoo says breathily.

Jongin gives him a half-smirk, clearly pleased at the dusting of pink on Kyungsoo’s cheeks.

“We are,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to Kyungsoo’s lips. “So you’d better get dressed before there’s none left.”

With that, despite Kyungsoo’s sputtered protests, they dress and go to eat.

 

Kyungsoo muses, some time after Seollal, that sex with Jongin must impart some kind of magic; in the two months since their relationship became something more than mere fantasizing, Kyungsoo started to _improve_ . He doesn’t believe it at first, but it is true. In fact, they _all_ improved; idiot and idioter can finally spar without breaking each other’s faces, and Kyungsoo is no longer riddled with bruises. He’s leaner now, faster and better at holding his own against Jongin (but he can’t actually _beat_ Jongin, which Kyungsoo finds infuriatingly disappointing). Their fighting becomes playful, teasing winks and triumphant smiles when Kyungsoo accomplishes something new (or when he’s naughty, falling against Jongin, his plump ass to Jongin’s dick, more than once, with a teasing over the shoulder look to finish pissing Jongin off). When Kyungsoo gets too cocky, Jongin commandeers the fight, winning with ease while Kyungsoo ends up winded and sweaty, frustrated and turned on (because really, when Jongin fights, he looks incredible, sharp, focused, a coil wound tightly and precisely).

They fuck often. Some nights it’s hot and desperate, Jongin fucking Kyungsoo against the wall or face down into the bed, Kyungsoo muffling his decadent moans with his forearm or pillow. Some nights it’s soft, Jongin kissing and caressing and nibbling until Kyungsoo cums with a tremulous sigh. Either way, Kyungsoo ends up a satiated puddle of cum and warmth and love, draped over Jongin’s chest until he falls asleep. On the days Kyungsoo’s too sore, he familiarizes himself with the taste of Jongin, soft sucking and kitten licks, savoring the taste of Jongin’s velvety head until Jongin cums on his tongue or lips, salty and hot.

And yet, he can’t help his nosiness. He knows he shouldn’t, but now that he’s seeing more of Jongin (physically and emotionally, but especially physically), he wants to see _more_ . It occurs to him one night as he’s falling asleep in Jongin’s arms that he hasn’t seen Jongin’s room. He tries to brush it off; if it’s anything like Jongin, it’s just as spartan as the other rooms in the school. But the curiosity lingers, growing with each of Jongin’s visits, until he decides he _has_ to go to Jongin’s room.

Which is why he slips out of his room after dinner and makes his way down the hall. He takes a right, then a left, down the narrow stone hall, and arrives at Jongin’s door. They’re supposed to meet tonight, and Kyungsoo belatedly realizes it’s possible Jongin’s standing in front of _his_ door, but he shakes off the doubt and opens the door.

Jongin is inside; he’d been brushing his hair, but the sudden intrusion immediately sends him into a defensive stance, brush in hand.

“I didn’t come for that kind of extra training,” says Kyungsoo, smiling.

But Jongin doesn’t smile. He relaxes, but only marginally; the tension in his shoulders and back stays, and he shifts, swallowing hard.

“Why are you here?”

“We were supposed to meet tonight,” says Kyungsoo, rolling his eyes. “But I thought a change of scenery might be nice.”

Jongin closes the door, skirting Kyungsoo and taking a deep breath.

“Why are you here?” he repeats, his back to Kyungsoo.

“I just wanted to see your room, that’s all,” Kyungsoo says with a shrug.

Jongin turns on him and Kyungsoo’s heart drops at the fire in Jongin’s eyes.

“All you’ve done since you got here is disrupt my life,” he snarls, and Kyungsoo gulps. “You only know how to take, to barge in and claim everything as yours. You insisted we kiss, you insisted we fuck, you taunt me in front of the others, you throw my whole life into disarray and act like it’s _nothing_.”

“J-jongin-”

“But I forget, it really is nothing, isn’t it, Your Majesty? You’re a prince, you can take what you want and use it until you grow bored and move on to something else. You can throw a tantrum to get the things you want, spit in people’s faces just because you’re feeling a little inconvenienced. It must be nice to have everything you want.”

“Please-”

“Can’t I have this one thing for me? Can’t I have space for myself, a place you can’t reach or taint or waltz in to?”

Kyungsoo can only stare, his heart pummeling against his ribs erratically as Jongin closes his eyes, teeth bared.

“Leave.”

“What?” Kyungsoo whispers, his voice catching in his throat.

“Get out of my room,” Jongin growls.

He doesn’t. He can’t move. Kyungsoo tries to wet his lips but his mouth is too dry, and he stares at the tightness of Jongin’s jaw.

“Jong-”

“I said _out_ ,” Jongin says, his voice low and threatening.

Kyungsoo swallows hard, rooted to the floor. With a snarl, Jongin grabs his arm and leads him out of the room, closing the door. Kyungsoo doesn’t turn around, not at first, staring down the hall at the cold stone walls. He sniffles, lower lip trembling. Surely _he_ hadn’t been the source of that outburst? He knew he could be imprudent at times, but Jongin seemed…different. Possessed, almost, if Kyungsoo didn’t know better. Jongin would never lose control, not like that, and yet…

Kyungsoo finally turns, taking a step towards Jongin’s room and lifting his hand, but he pauses. No, he hasn’t done anything wrong (not _really_ , the little voice in his head reassures him). He’ll let Jongin sort himself out. He’ll wait for an apology. He sighs, pressing his hand against the cold wood, willing Jongin to come out and embrace him, to act as if nothing happened. But nothing does happen, so he leaves.

  


Two days. Two excruciating days of silence. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to do with himself, with the ache of missing Jongin, the hurt of his rejection. He also (begrudgingly) comes to the conclusion that he _might possibly_ have fucked up. Possibly. He hasn’t ever, in all honesty, considered what another person would feel if someone (that someone being Kyungsoo) barged into their room without even bothering to announce themselves. But now he’s not sure he can be the one to approach Jongin to apologize. He tells himself it’s not about pride (even though, deep down, it is, at least a little bit); he thinks (reassures himself) that despite Kyungsoo’s mistake, Jongin was the one to act like a petulant child, so he holds off on apologizing. But he misses Jongin (stupidly, because it’s only been _two days_ ). He doesn’t want to seem desperate, but he can’t control the pleading looks he gives Jongin during their lessons. Jongin is stiff, too formal, and because he’s good (too good) he manages to avoid touching Kyungsoo at all. In all their sparring, Jongin never once touches Kyungsoo. No accidental bumps, no near brushes. He doesn’t even punish Kyungsoo, which he should be glad for, but even the sting of the staff on his ass is better than not being spared a second glance. Kyungsoo is a mess. He still wants to be angry at Jongin for the outburst, but each time he tries to, he just feels guilt. As if he’s the one who did something wrong (and the little voice in his head reminds him firmly that he _did_ ). He considers going to Jongin’s room again, but he decides it’s best if he sulks in his own room, nursing his hurt with muffled sniffles.

Until the second night, that is. There’s a knock on the door, not Jongin’s usual knock, but Kyungsoo knows it’s him. He tries to put on a neutral face and opens the door, but the sight of Jongin with regret in his eyes makes Kyungsoo’s resolve crumble in an instant.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Can I come in?” Jongin’s voice is low, soft and vulnerable, and Kyungsoo’s heart swells with pain.

He steps aside to let Jongin in and closes the door, jumping when Jongin leads him to the bed. Silence then, for a moment, in which Jongin looks at their twined fingers and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Kyungsoo waits, but Jongin says nothing else.

“Why?” Kyungsoo blurts, biting his lip when Jongin looks at him, but all he finds is exhaustion in Jongin’s eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he says softly. “This is my home, Kyungsoo. My whole life is defined by this mountain, and soon I’ll have to leave it.”

Kyungsoo had nearly forgotten. A month and a half, and they would be on their way to Hanyang. He should be elated, but now that he sees the sorrow in Jongin’s eyes he’s not sure. Kyungsoo remembers his flip comment when he first arrived, his dismissal of the school, but this dismal place was _Jongin’s_ dismal place. Home; the thought of his room in Hanyang fills him with warm nostalgia, and he remembers the comfort of his room. It makes him ache for home, until he turns his thoughts to Jongin. He _has_ a home to come back to. Jongin, once he leaves the school, will never come back. Kyungsoo swallows hard, suddenly guilty that he wants to leave so badly.

“I’ve worked to be the best fighter in this school, but in doing so I created the opportunity for my departure. The whole point of the school is to train the best fighters in the kingdom and offer them as protection for hire. If it hadn’t been you, it would’ve been someone else but-” Jongin took a shaky breath, wincing as he exhaled. “But it was you, and because of that I wanted to blame you. I wanted you to be responsible for tearing me from the only home I’ve known. If I leave here, I’ll be lost. I’ll have nothing to ground me.”

“I could be your anchor,” says Kyungsoo, smiling as he tangles their fingers together again.

Jongin gives him a resigned look, grimacing.

“I think it’s best if this ends here,” he says.

Kyungsoo’s smile freezes, unblinking as his fingers twitch between Jongin’s. A beat of silence, then he looks up to meet Jongin’s wretchedly sorry eyes, the wash of realization rushing over him in a rush of heat. Surely Jongin doesn’t mean _that_ , not after so many shared nights, not after Kyungsoo had shown Jongin the raw, wildly beating parts of him. But then he remembers; Jongin still doesn’t love him. Two months (give or take a week or two) since Kyungsoo had first confessed, and Jongin hadn’t once uttered the phrase, not even in the throes of his orgasms. But Kyungsoo has to be sure, so he wets his lips with his tongue and asks:

“What?”

“It’ll be too risky to be together in Hanyang,” says Jongin, swallowing hard. “You’re a prince of Joseon, you know you can’t be caught with a man. Even your father can’t save you from that.”

“Nobody has to know,” Kyungsoo whispers, because his heart threatens to jump if he opens his too widely.

“I don’t think you understand how serious this is, Kyungsoo-”

“I know damn well how serious this is,” Kyungsoo hisses, willing his breath to stay even but it stutters and he finds himself wiping away angry tears. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I want to keep you safe and this is the best way to do it-”

“No.”

“Kyungsoo, _please_ be reasonable-”

“How can I be reasonable about this, Jongin? How?” Kyungsoo sobs. “I know you don’t love me but-”

“I do.”

Kyungsoo sniffles, almost offended at Jongin’s interruption until he realizes what Jongin has said.

“What?”

“I love you, Kyungsoo, and that’s why we need to do this,” says Jongin, his voice as soft and low as it has been since he walked in.

Kyungsoo freezes, eyes burning with tears, and stares at Jongin, his heart beating wildly in his throat. His breath is ragged, hands trembling as Jongin wipes stray tears from his cheeks, fingers soft against Kyungsoo’s skin.

“No,” but he lacks the conviction he had before.

He can’t say anything else. If he does, he’ll break, so he settles for throwing himself onto Jongin, face buried in Jongin’s chest.

“Kyungsoo-”

“No,” he whimpers, his voice muffled.

Breathe. He has to remind himself to breathe. His lungs scream for air, but Kyungsoo is too busy suppressing sobs, so his breath comes in stutters, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the rough fabric of Jongin’s shirt.

“My love-” Jongin starts, threading his fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair.

Kyungsoo breaks. He’s sure his chest will give out with his sobs, ribs splitting his chest and spilling his heart onto Jongin’s lap; it already feels broken, the ache settling deep.

“Please,” Jongin says softly, his voice wavering, but Kyungsoo can’t stop.

He clings to Jongin, a desperate attempt to keep himself afloat among ragged breaths and raw whimpers. He fails miserably. He cries, trembling in Jongin’s arms as his heart disintegrates; he cries until his voice is spent, his throat abraded; he cries until his eyes burn, tears unwilling to fall; he cries until he can no longer cry, his breath finally even and slow.

When he’s spent, he sits up. He aches all over, face itchy and irritated; he rubs it with his sleeve, but the rough cotton only makes it worse. He peeks at Jongin, who is puffy faced, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Kyungsoo’s bruised heart twinges at the sight of Jongin’s red eyes, at the broken half-smile Jongin gives him.

“Can we-” he starts, rubbing his eyes again before he continues. “Can we at least wait until we get to Hanyang before we decide what to do?”

Jongin closes his eyes and sighs, then meets Kyungsoo’s expectant gaze. He begins to shake his head and Kyungsoo can’t help but wince.

“Fine. But when we get to Hanyang, whether we decide to stay together or not, we shouldn’t do anything for the first month we’re there, at the very least,” says Jongin, his voice ragged.

“Month?” Kyungsoo whimpers; Jongin gives him a tired look.

He knows Jongin is right. That’s what hurts the most, the thing that makes him a good prince and a bad student. He _knows_ what is right, but he desperately wants to disregard it, just as he brushes off every other attempt at propriety that doesn’t sit well with him. But this, _this_ , Jongin and him and their togetherness, their _love_ (and he hates that the thought of _love_ makes his heart both swell in happiness and splinter in despair) is dangerous. A common man loving another common man? That was fine. An affront, an insult to the face of the village, perhaps, and both men would be punished, but a prince and his guard? No. The kingdom would balk at such indecency, at such blatant unseemliness. Kyungsoo wouldn’t be harmed too badly, not when he hardly posed any other threat to his father or the crown prince, but Jongin…Jongin would bear the brunt of it. Execution, most likely public, but not before he was beaten. The thought of Jongin, bloodied and bruised and clinging to life is enough to send Kyungsoo into his arms again, hiccuping weak sobs as Jongin rubbed his back.

“It’s just a month, Kyungsoo. Surely you can wait four weeks,” Jongin says with a weak chuckle.

“I- I’m not crying because of the time,” says Kyungsoo, sitting up to look at the warmth of Jongin’s dark eyes and cup Jongin’s cheek, heart swelling at the sight of Jongin leaning into his touch. “I’m crying because it’s not fair.”

He hates that he sounds incredibly childish, but he can’t keep the whine out of his voice (if he tries too hard he’ll cry again; he’s tired of crying). Jongin gives him a heartbroken smile before he places a kiss on the palm of Kyungsoo’s hand.

“It isn’t.”

Kyungsoo stares at him for a moment, at the exhaustion imprinted under his eyes and the disheartened smile. The desire that swells in him is strong; he needs to be touched, comforted, fucked until he forgets the rest of the world exists.

“I need you.”

Jongin blinks, stunned into silence.

“W-we should rest-”

“Jongin, _please_ ,” Kyungsoo says softly, curling his fingers around the knot of Jongin’s shirt.

Jongin gently pushes Kyungsoo’s hair back, plucking stubborn strands that stick to Kyungsoo’s wet cheeks and tucking them behind Kyungsoo’s ear before he kisses the tear tracks.

“Are you sure?”

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo says breathily, nibbling on Jongin’s bottom lip, “ _please_.”

He undoes the knot of Jongin’s shirt before the other can change his mind, deepening their kiss. Jongin still seems reluctant, kissing him back without fervor. The prince pulls away long enough to remove Jongin’s shirt before he presses his lips to Jongin’s neck, desperate to lose himself in the taste of Jongin’s warm skin.

Jongin pushes Kyungsoo away gently, shaking his head when Kyungsoo whines in protest.

“Be patient, my love,” Jongin says softly, and Kyungsoo lessens his pout.

Jongin is slow, undressing Kyungsoo with care, draping kisses over Kyungsoo’s exposed skin until Kyungsoo is supple, whimpering softly when Jongin nips at his nipples. Once Kyungsoo is naked, Jongin sits back, cupping Kyungsoo’s cheek, and the prince closes his eyes. When Jongin does nothing else, Kyungsoo opens his eyes. He meets Jongin’s eyes, so full of love it makes Kyungsoo giddy.

“Don’t ever doubt that I love you,” Jongin whispers.

Kyungsoo fights the urge to throw himself in Jongin’s arms to cry again. To distract himself, he unties Jongin’s pants, hands trembling. Jongin lets him, lifting his hips to let Kyungsoo slide them off. He takes Jongin’s dick in his hands, soft strokes that coax Jongin hard. He takes his time, spreading the pearls of pre-cum once they start to form. Jongin watches him, the occasional sigh escaping his lips. The prince pauses, catching Jongin’s eyes; the other gives him a questioning look, but Kyungsoo only flutters his eyelashes and indulges himself, bending down to suck the head. Jongin stifles a groan, fingers curling as Kyungsoo sucks gently, swirling his tongue around the head. He laps at the slit, unable to help the moan when he tastes Jongin’s pre-cum. He wraps his lips around the head again, catching Jongin’s eye again; Jongin’s eyes are lustful now, drinking in the sight of Kyungsoo pressing open-mouthed kisses around the head. He drags his lips across the slit once more and pulls off; he knows his lips are glistening with spit and pre-cum, but he doesn’t lick them. No, he waits for Jongin, who gulps, eyes trained on Kyungsoo’s lips until he leans forward to taste himself. Kyungsoo parts his lips eagerly, moaning when Jongin pushes him down onto the bed.

“Don’t be gentle,” he whispers.

Jongin’s breath hitches. Their lips are still touching, but Jongin doesn’t kiss him (he doesn’t need to, Kyungsoo muses, not when the puffs of Jongin’s breath against his lips are enough to make him hard).

“Are you sure?” Jongin finally asks, wetting his lips (and, to Kyungsoo’s delight, his tongue wets Kyungsoo’s lips too).

“I promise you I won’t break,” Kyungsoo says with a chuckle.

Jongin pulls back enough to eye him warily; Kyungsoo tweaks one of his nipples, giggling when Jongin blushes.

“If it hurts-”

“It can’t hurt more than what you’ve done to my pride,” Kyungsoo teases, grinning when Jongin gives him a dirty look.

But he reaches under the desk anyway, extricating the lube from the drawer Kyungsoo keeps it in. He leans over to kiss Kyungsoo, rubbing his hole briefly before he slips a finger in, and Kyungsoo sighs. The second finger comes soon after (Jongin knows by now that Kyungsoo is impatient). A few strokes that make Kyungsoo’s toes curl and Jongin is slathering lube on his dick. He presses the head against Kyungsoo’s hole, but Kyungsoo stops him.

“Wait, I want-” Kyungsoo’s cut off by Jongin pushing in the head, letting out a strangled moan. “I want to ride you, _fuck_.”

Jongin stops, licking his lips.

“Oh.”

“Pull out, dummy,” says Kyungsoo, swatting Jongin’s chest when the other doesn’t move.

“Right, sorry,” he pulls out, sitting back and watching Kyungsoo crawl around him.

“Now you have to lie down,” Kyungsoo says when Jongin doesn’t move.

Jongin scrambles to do so, blushing when Kyungsoo laughs.

“Shut up, I wasn’t expecting this,” Jongin grumbles, but the smile forms on his lips anyway.

Kyungsoo crawls on top of him, looking over his shoulder when Jongin’s dick bumps against his asscheek. But first, a kiss, deep and messy. He sits up, guiding Jongin’s dick to his hole and sinking down with a moan. Jongin’s hands fly to his waist, and Kyungsoo is oddly comforted by this. The prince waits for a moment, adjusting to the fullness of Jongin inside of him, before he braces his hands on Jongin’s thighs and starts to ride him. He takes it slow, throwing his head back; his thighs start to burn early, but each time he sinks onto Jongin’s dick pleasure shoots through him. He’s leaking pre-cum, thighs shaking with pleasure and effort.

“If you’re too- _fuck_ ,” Jongin groans. “If you’re too tired I can take over.”

Kyungsoo huffs and tries to pick up the pace, but with one last whimpers he sinks onto Jongin’s dick and stays.

“I just need a break,” he says, but Jongin pulls him down and wraps his arms around him.

“Let me make you feel good,” Jongin whispers, and Kyungsoo shivers.

But Kyungsoo is stubborn. He tries to sit up, hands braced against Jongin’s shoulders. The other only gives him a wicked smile and leans up, catching Kyungsoo’s right nipple in his mouth and sucking. Kyungsoo stifles a moan, nails digging into Jongin’s shoulders, and promptly falls into Jongin, saved only by Jongin’s steady hands at his waist.

“Ah- Jongin please,” Kyungsoo whimpers, trying to pull away, but Jongin nibbles on his nipple.

“Let me make you feel good,” Jongin repeats, lapping at Kyungsoo’s nipple until the prince relents, nodding.

He lies down again (but not before he nibbles Kyungsoo’s nipple once more) and pulls Kyungsoo down with him, wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo. The prince melts on top of him, cheek pressed against Jongin’s pec, eyes closed until Jongin starts to fuck him. Kyungsoo’s eyes fly open, mouth parted as his stuttered moans mingle with the sound of Jongin’s hips snapping to meet Kyungsoo’s ass. Jongin’s hands make their way to Kyungsoo’s ass, parting his cheeks so each thrust is deeper, his balls smacking against the fleshy bottom of Kyungsoo’s cheeks.

“Fuck, Jongin,” Kyungsoo cries, his orgasm tearing through him as Jongin’s hips faltered.

The other keeps a hand on Kyungsoo’s ass, but with his other hand he strokes the small of Kyungsoo’s back, pressing a kiss to Kyungsoo’s temple.

“Good?” he asks, and Kyungsoo can only nod. “I’m going to flip us over, okay?”

Kyungsoo giggles.

“If you’re too tired I can take over,” Kyungsoo teases.

Jongin huffs, pushing Kyungsoo’s hair away from his face. He doesn’t deign to respond to the prince, instead holding Kyungsoo close to flip them so that Kyungsoo is on the bed. He starts to fuck him again, slow thrusts, then fast, but he’s clumsy, rhythm uneven as he cums. His eyes are closed, breath heavy, and Kyungsoo reaches out to caress him. Jongin opens his eyes, leaning down to kiss Kyungsoo.

“I love you,” he says softly.

Kyungsoo melts, nuzzling Jongin’s cheek.

“I love you too,” he whispers back.

 

 


	6. Now All I Do (Is Wait)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (AN: so this chapter is kinda fillery and i'm sorryyyyyyyy but i'm gonna be going on a mini-vacation so hopefully i'll get about two or three chapters of writing done in the next week! anyway, enjoy this tiny break from the angst, bc it's only gonna get worse from here :))

Hanyang, glittering in the cool spring sun. The sight makes Kyungsoo’s heart sing, especially when his ass and back ache from the horse riding. Changdeokgung’s gates loom in the distance, and Kyungsoo turns to flash Jongin a brilliant smile.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he chirps.

But Jongin only gives him a curt nod, staring straight ahead. Kyungsoo sucks his teeth, but deep down anxiety gnaws at his stomach at the sight of Jongin so cold.

“Jongin-ah,” Kyungsoo whines, “You can at least admit to enjoying the view.”

Jongin continues to stare ahead, his eyes sliding to meet Kyungsoo’s for a split second before focusing on the palace gates again.

“The palace is beautiful, your majesty,” Jongin agrees, the perfect picture of a detached and uninterested guard.

Kyungsoo’s good mood dissipates instantly. He sets his jaw, spurring his horse into a trot. And of course, when Jongin doesn’t reach out or apologize, Kyungsoo sinks lower into his sulk. Even the fanfare, the people surprised at seeing the young prince return (and on horseback, how mature he looks now!), the drums of the guards, and his father, the king, standing at the third gate, are not enough to make his mood less sour.

When they reach the steps, he hops off his horse (and doesn’t stumble - how far he’s come since he hobbled off his horse at the Tiger Mountain School) and goes up the steps, the bitter taste of his temper fading some. He takes a moment to bask in his father’s smile before he bows, forehead to the ground. The king is still beaming when Kyungsoo stands, giving him a proud nod.

“Welcome home, my son,” he says.

His father’s smile is infectious; Kyungsoo lets himself enjoy the pride radiating from the king, smiling in return before he steps aside for his guards to bow. Jinhwan, Moonkyu, and Jongin bow in unison (but Jongin looks regal while he does, Kyungsoo thinks with a proud sniff), rising when the king asks them to.

“So you are the one who will protect my son now,” the king says, peering at Jongin.

Jongin is statuesque, perfectly put together as he dips into another bow.

“It is an honor to do so, your majesty,” he says with a soft voice.

Kyungsoo stares, drinking in the sight of Jongin’s profile, of the bump on his nose and the fullness of his lips. That is, until the king starts to speak. Kyungsoo jolts, looking back at his father with startled eyes, and curses under his breath. Right, he shouldn’t be so obvious. He chastises himself (with Jongin’s voice, because it sounds more stern) and tries to focus on what the king is saying.

“–and tomorrow he will demonstrate what he has learned,” the king says with a chuckle.

Kyungsoo blinks, wondering why a wave of chuckles is rippling across the courtyard until he realizes the king was talking about _him_. Oh, fuck.

“I will?” he squeaks, blushing when the king laughs.

“Come now, I want to see if you actually learned anything up there with that old fart. It wouldn’t be any good if you came back here in the same condition,” the king sighs. “But come, get yourself clean so we can eat.”

Kyungsoo’s stomach grumbles before he can reply; his ears burn, but nobody seems to have noticed. Well, nobody but Jongin, who ducks his head to hide a small smile. Stupid Jongin. Kyungsoo fumes, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue at his guard, but his grumpiness is trumped by the little swell of joy that smile brings, so he lets it slide.

 

The sheets are softer than he remembers them. Too soft, after months of rough wool; the silk is treacherous, tangling his limbs, slipping between his legs whenever he fidgets, wrapping around his forearms. With a frustrated huff, he throws them off. His room is warm enough for him to sleep uncovered, but the blankets are a welcome weight now that Jongin is no longer sleeping with him.

Kyungsoo sighs, pulling the blankets over himself again. Jongin had been right, of course. In the month and a half before they left for Hanyang, they slept together every night. Most nights it was desperate sex (so frequent and intense that even Jongin would look tired the next day), but on the other nights it was desperate cuddling, Kyungsoo burrowing himself in Jongin’s arms, clinging to the other’s back with a desperation that sometimes frightened Jongin (and Jongin would soothe him with soft kisses, rubbing Kyungsoo’s back and thighs until the prince loosened his grip). The prince had grown used to Jongin, to falling asleep in the warmth of Jongin’s embrace.

But now he is alone. So many months of wishing for his soft bed, but now all he wants is his room at the Tiger Mountain School with its shoddy padding and rough blankets. He sighs. Well, he only needs to wait a month; then it’ll be the heavenly combination of his soft bed and Jongin’s strong arms (and ruthless, divine hips, thrusting deep into Kyungsoo as Kyungsoo loses himself in pleasure– no, not a good train of thoughts to follow). He curls up, cursing as the silk sheets pool around him like an oil sheen. Despite having eaten hours ago, the rich food sits too heavily in his stomach; another unfortunate consequence of eating the simpler food of the school. He’d dreamed of palace meals, but once he sat in front of the feast the king had arranged, his appetite vanished. The excess of palace life seems surreal now, a half-remembered dream that had once been pleasurable, but now seems like over-sweet desserts. And an empty sweetness at that, cloying but unable to fill the Jongin-shaped absence in his bed. He sighs, resigning himself to the sleepless nights that stretch out before him.

 

Kyungsoo stretches his neck, eyes narrowed against the sun. Jongin is across from him in all his golden glory, his skin vibrant against the red and black silk of his uniform. He holds a wooden sword and in his stance is a coiled strength, like a tiger stalking prey, readying itself to pounce. Kyungsoo gulps, adjusting his grip on his own wooden sword. There’s a whoop from Kyungsoo’s right; his brothers, all five of them, in their big, burly, muscled glory (with the exception of Beomsoo, who is a scholarly guy, even wimpier than Kyungsoo). Even his noona Hyesoo is there, sitting between Crown Prince Insoo and Prince Seungsoo. Their father sits to Insoo’s right, wilting in the spring warmth, but Kyungsoo can still feel the excitement radiating from him. He bristles, glaring at Prince Dongsoo when his brother whoops again (Dongsoo is the most obnoxious of his siblings; Kyungsoo definitely did _not_ miss _him_ ). Dongsoo only flashes him a radiant grin, leaning forward in anticipation.

To distract himself, he looks back at Jongin. Well, it’s not really a distraction, not when Jongin looks good enough to eat (and Kyungsoo tries not to think about how badly he wants to get on his knees and suck Jongin off right at that moment). The prince swallows hard, licking his lips, and nods. Jongin bows, brandishing his wooden sword into the waiting stance; Kyungsoo follows, smiling when Jongin gives him a small nod of approval.

“Yah, kick his ass already,” Dongsoo shouts.

And Kyungsoo, because he’s Kyungsoo and because he _hasn’t_ really learned all he needed to learn when he was away, takes off his shoe and throws it at his brother. Dongsoo squawks, baring his teeth at Seungsoo and Moonsoo, who have both dissolved into raucous laughter. Beomsoo tries to hide his laughter behind his sleeve, but it’s obvious in the shake of his shoulders. Even Hyesoo is smothering a smile.

Kyungsoo smirks, preening when Dongsoo growls out a foul word, then looks over at Jongin. Jongin, who is staring at the princes, eyes round and lips parted with shock. It’s enough to make Kyungsoo burst into laughter too, hiding his face when Jongin looks over, still incredulous.

“Welcome to Hanyang, Jongin-ah,” Kyungsoo teases, cheeks pinking when Jongin bites back a smile.

“You shouldn’t have broken your stance,” he chides, his voice low.

Kyungsoo winks at him, sliding back into the proper stance with a flirty grin.

“Be _quiet_ , you moron,” he hears Insoo hiss.

His brothers quiet down (though Dongsoo grumbles a final threat in Moonsoo’s direction). At least now, Kyungsoo muses, he’s not as nervous, but there’s still a spike of anxiety that makes him sweat. He trusts Jongin, he really does, but he’s not sure he trusts that Jongin won’t have him with a sore ass and bruised ego by the end of the fight.

But in the time it takes for Kyungsoo to worry about Jongin’s skill, Jongin moves, quick steps and a slash that Kyungsoo easily blocks. Kyungsoo gives him an annoyed look, because he’s not _that_ bad at fighting, not anymore, but Jongin only flashes him a half smile before the next hit. Kyungsoo parries easily, his movements fluid as Jongin starts to pick up the pace, but only barely. After a weak side slash, Kyungsoo huffs, knocking Jongin’s sword aside.

“Come _on_ ,” he grits, and because Jongin raises an eyebrow he takes a step closer (under the pretense of knocking Jongin off balance with his foot) and whispers, “Harder, Jongin. You know I can take it.”

The tips of Jongin’s ears turn red and Kyungsoo grins, biting his lip at the scandalized look in Jongin’s eyes. It lasts only a moment. Jongin turns away from Kyungsoo and faces the king (and Kyungsoo’s heart skips several beats, frozen by fear). He bows, oblivious to the frantic pounding of Kyungsoo’s heart (because after the skipped beats it began to beat furiously, as if to make up for its earlier malfunction).

“Yes, Jongin-ssi?” the king asks.

“Permission to demonstrate the more difficult routines, your majesty,” he says.

Kyungsoo lets out a sigh of relief, but the relief only lasts a moment. The king nods, smiling, and Kyungsoo curses himself for challenging Jongin. Sometimes (only sometimes), Kyungsoo is monumentally stupid. Jongin turns to face Kyungsoo again, bowing. When he straightens, there’s a spark in his eyes, the only warning Kyungsoo has before the barrage of blows. Jongin is ruthless, fast but careful in his blows. Twice, the flat of his sword smacks Kyungsoo’s thighs, and once he pokes Kyungsoo’s side, but nothing that will bruise too badly. Kyungsoo huffs, readjusting his grip when Jongin knocks the flat of his blade against Kyungsoo’s arm. He bares his teeth, dodging out of Jongin’s reach; frustration simmers, heating his ears, and he swings at Jongin, grunting when Jongin easily blocks the blow.

“Focus, Kyungsoo. Don’t lose your cool,” Jongin says softly. “If you lose your temper you lose control. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes but takes a deep breath, letting the sizzle of anger leave him with the exhale. Jongin nods, Kyungsoo’s only warning (and Kyungsoo has half a mind to chastise him later for these half-assed warnings) before he starts again. Kyungsoo fares better this time, blocking and returning blows, at least until Jongin’s last blow knocks the sword clean out of Kyungsoo’s hands. The sword clatters, disrupting the tense silence; Kyungsoo freezes, the blunt point of Jongin’s wooden sword pressed against his neck. Jongin smirks, winking at Kyungsoo before he brings the sword down and bows. The prince bites back a small smile, trying to look annoyed at his defeat but the amusement radiating from Jongin makes it hard. He manages a wobbly bow, smile hidden by the time he stands.

“You are the most _mesmerizing_ fighter I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching,” the king guffaws, walking over to Jongin.

A pout forms on Kyungsoo’s face. It was supposed to be a showcase of _his_ abilities, not Jongin’s (and he also, quite possibly, is a little jealous of other people noticing Jongin, but only a _little_ jealous). He half hears Jongin’s attempts at humility, which the king brushes off, and frowns because Dongsoo, the absolute idiot, is still holding Kyungsoo’s shoe, grinning smugly at the frown on Kyungsoo’s face. Kyungsoo bends down, takes his other shoe, and throws it. A perfect hit; the shoe hits Dongsoo’s jaw, bouncing into the older prince’s lap.

The king gives Kyungsoo a sharp look.

“I thought they would teach you some restraint,” the king sniffs.

Kyungsoo doesn’t deign him with an answer. Instead he curses himself for throwing his shoes because his socks are now gritty with pebbles and dirt.

“But I must admit, you are a competent fighter now. I did not expect for you to learn so much in such a short amount of time— Enough! Stop throwing shoes!”

Kyungsoo ducks to miss one of the shoes; the other he blocks with his hand, hissing when it bounces off. Dongsoo sucks his teeth, no doubt annoyed that he missed (his own jaw red from Kyungsoo’s second throw). Beomsoo and Seungsoo are smothering their laughter and Insoo is livid, red-faced as he smacks the back of Dongsoo’s head.

“My apologies, father,” Dongsoo grumbles, bowing to the king.

But the king sighs and shakes his head, turning back to Kyungsoo and Jongin. Jongin is still in shock, mirth barely contained in the shine of his eyes.

“I am proud of you, Kyungsoo,” the king says, patting Kyungsoo’s shoulder before he walks off.

“Never thought I’d hear him say that,” Kyungsoo says softly, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel much; no blooming joy, no warmth of pride. He just feels sweaty. “Let’s go bathe, I feel filthy.”

Jongin bows to him and Kyungsoo nearly trips at the sight, clearing his throat to cover it up.

“W-why are you—”

“I am yours to command, your majesty,” Jongin says, his voice low. “A proper servant of a prince shows his respect.”

Kyungsoo winces, jarred by the deference with which Jongin speaks to him. For the first time in his life, he’s uncomfortable with the thought of someone serving him, waiting around to satisfy his every whim (or, in Jongin’s case, to protect him from his own stupid self). He averts his eyes, shuffling towards his shoes and ignoring the jeer Dongsoo throws his way.

The walk to the royal baths is short, thankfully; Kyungsoo peels off his grimy socks the second he enters the hallway, shaking them in disgust. It’s not until he hears Jongin’s laugh that he realizes what he’s doing — at the school he’d taken more care of his clothes than at the palace, and the habit stuck. Kyungsoo resists the urge to throw the socks at Jongin, turning with a huff to go into the baths. Except—

Except he goes in by himself. Jongin stops just outside the door, stiff-backed and alert.

“It’s the baths, Jongin, you don’t need to stand guard,” Kyungsoo says, taking a step back to stand beside Jongin again. “Besides, our muscles could use some more rigorous exercise before we bathe,” he purrs, but Jongin doesn’t look his way.

“A guard never shuns his duty,” Jongin says, rather curt. “And it’s been two days, Kyungsoo.”

The prince sighs, shoulders sagging. Well, he _tried_. But Jongin is much better at the discipline and restraint thing; it’ll be near impossible to convince him to put out before the month is over. Kyungsoo looks up at Jongin, trying not to feel guilty when he sees the disappointed look in Jongin’s eyes.

“At least call Jaehwan or Moonkyu over so you can bathe, too,” says Kyungsoo. “To get _clean_ , not to, y’know,” he gestures vaguely, cracking a smile.

But Jongin doesn’t return it. Instead he bows (Kyungsoo is starting to hate these bows), face unreadable.

“As you wish, your majesty,” he says softly.

Kyungsoo huffs, disappearing into the steam of the baths before Jongin can see the childish hurt in his eyes.


	7. Crave My Heart (And It's Bleeding In Your Hand)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (AN: this was.... a tough chapter to write lol. apologies in advanced, but i hope you guys like it anyway!! lmk what you think in the comments pretty please~)

 

 

Kyungsoo was patient. Emphasis on _was_. There’s only so long he can wait without a sign before he takes things into his own hands, because they’re reaching the two-month mark of his return to Hanyang and Jongin still hasn’t come around. In fact Jongin isn’t really Jongin anymore (at least, that’s what Kyungsoo feels); Jongin is like a wooden carving, once a living thing but no longer. He doesn’t laugh at Kyungsoo’s jokes, doesn’t look Kyungsoo’s way when Kyungsoo’s only half dressed (he’s asked Jongin to “keep him safe” while he dresses a few times to see if some skin will break him, but no luck), doesn’t respond to Kyungsoo’s flirty jokes. And now Kyungsoo is unraveling.

Palace life has its own problems. The drama of his brothers, of the wives and the concubines, the generals and the Confucian scholars, of the maid who was caught fucking a kitchen boy _in the kitchen_ (Beomsoo tells him about this, half horrified, half titillated). It all tires him. He misses the structure of his days at the school. At the palace he has too much free time, empty space he has no way of filling completely (especially, his mind helpfully provides, when Jongin won’t fuck him).

He spends a lot of time in the library. Not because he likes to read (in fact he kind of hates it, trudging through the hanja with little joy), but because it’s always cool, a relief from the ever warming days that precede the summer monsoon.

He makes Moonkyu and Jaehwan stay at the entrance, but Jongin comes with him to the second floor, his footsteps noiseless. Kyungsoo has to check a few times to make sure Jongin is behind him, suddenly paranoid that Jongin would leave, but he’s there, solid and wonderful as ever, and unsuspecting as ever.

Kyungsoo ducks into a corner, leaning against the window that overlooks a pair of twisting pines. Jongin parks himself at the entrance of the aisle, staring at the shelf of scrolls before him. The prince waits a heartbeat, listening to make sure they’re alone, before he grabs Jongin’s wrist and pulls him farther into the aisle. Jongin tenses under him, pressing himself against the wall.

“It’s been two months,” Kyungsoo whispers, trying to keep himself from whining.

Jongin’s jaw flexes, but he stays quiet, looking past Kyungsoo.

“Jongin, it’s not that I’m _that_ desperate-” Jongin snorts at this, and Kyungsoo resists the urge to punch him “-I’m _not_ , but you’re acting like I don’t even exist. You won’t even _look_ at me!”

When Jongin says nothing else, Kyungsoo grits his teeth, exhaling harshly to keep the tears at bay, but they well up in his eyes anyway.

“You’re the one who’s supposed to be ignoring me,” Jongin says softly; Kyungsoo glares at him, but doesn’t speak. “That you would even notice me is enough to draw suspicion. We have to be _careful_ , your majesty-”

“We’re in private, you don’t have to call me that,” Kyungsoo spits.

Jongin sighs, throwing his head back.

“I think it’s too dangerous to be together,” Jongin says softly.

“Other people have clandestine relationships all that time,” Kyungsoo snaps, furiously wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “It doesn’t have to be often, I just want to be with you, Jongin, _please_. I miss you.”

Jongin sighs again, but after a moment of sullen silence he wipes the tears from Kyungsoo’s cheeks.

“Okay.”

Kyungsoo brightens, throwing himself onto Jongin, who staggers before he wraps his arms around Kyungsoo.

“Come tonight, my father is having a poetry reading on the other side of the palace, so it’ll be safe,” Kyungsoo croons, twining his fingers in Jongin’s. “I already have a few things in mind for us to do.” He traces his fingertips down Jongin’s wrist, soft touches that make Jongin lick his lips.

“We should go,” Jongin says, but before he can say anything else, Kyungsoo gives him a kiss, open-mouthed and messy with far too much tongue.

He keeps it quick, pulling away with as much warning as he started the kiss, grinning at the look of shock in Jongin’s eyes, the spit shining on his lower lip.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says with a wink.

 

Except now it’s nearing midnight and there’s no sign of Jongin. Kyungsoo tucks a lock of hair behind his ears, willing the butterflies in his stomach to calm down, but that does nothing to quell the worry that makes him curl his fingers in the softness of his sheets. Jongin’s probably just caught up trying to get idiot and idioter to leave him alone. Yes, that must be it.

Kyungsoo busies himself fixing the sheets he just crumpled, setting the chopsticks for the hundredth time, poking the rice cakes into a nicer looking pile. He touches the teapot gingerly; it’s still quite hot, which gives him some relief. He lifts the top, breathing in the scent of green tea before he covers it again. He stands up and closes the open wall, sucking his teeth at the soft patter of rain that has started to fall. Another scan of the room, fidgeting with ceramics, straightening the scroll painting, stretching the painted divider a little farther, checking his hair in the mirror. But nothing happens.

He starts to pace, rounds around the bed until he knocks against the divider one too many times. He confines his steps to the area at the head of his bed, groaning as the time passes at a crawl. He’s too fidgety, too on edge, so he throws himself on his bed, face down, and lays there for a while.

When he wakes, the tea is cold. He stretches, standing up to crack open a window. The sky is gray, tinged with the light of dawn. It makes his blood run cold. Jongin hadn’t come. Kyungsoo, the absolute idiot, had done all of this for nothing. He chokes on a sob, teeth gritted against the morning cold.

And then he breaks. The teapot is first to suffer; he throws it against a wooden beam, screaming profanities as the cold tea spills between the cracked porcelain. Then he breaks a vase, kicks his divider down, and tears at his sheets, crumpling into an exhausted mess when Jaehwan bursts into the room.

“Your majesty, are you alright?” his guard asks, searching wildly for an invisible attacker.

Kyungsoo hides his face behind his sleeves, curling up more.

“Leave me alone,” he sobs.

But Jaehwan, the moron, takes a step closer instead.

“Your majesty-”

“I said leave!” Kyungsoo screeches, crawling under the blankets when Jaehwan finally scuttles out.

 

He feels like an idiot. His room was cleaned up quickly, broken things replaced, but his pride remains wounded. And he feels childish, wallowing in waves of shame. To rid himself of it (as best he can) he goes to the garden, trailed by Moonkyu and Jongin. The prince walks ahead, aloof, head held high, because he knows one look at Jongin will make him snap again.

The pavilion is blissfully empty, looking over tranquil green water and the tightly wound lotus blossoms. He leaves his shoes at the door, plopping onto the cushion to drink in the sight. His luck, unfortunately, does not last. There’s a bustle out by the road that runs through Huwon. The prince doesn’t bother peeking, instead resting his forearms on the railing to get a better feel of the breeze.

“Oy, you. Come here,” he hears someone say, followed by a pair of footsteps leading away from the pavilion.

“I’m the prince’s guard-” Moonkyu starts, but is cut off by the one who called him.

The bustle continues, then passes out of earshot, swallowed by the sweet stillness of the garden. Kyungsoo sighs, letting his heart drop with his breath; the softness of the breeze and the freshness of the spring green wraps his heart in a sorrow he can’t shake off. At least, not until he hears someone step in.

“Your majesty, permission to enter?” he hears Jongin say.

Kyungsoo stares out over the pond, trying to lose himself in the dance of the bamboo stalks in the breeze, but the moment is lost.

“Fine,” he snarls, still not turning around.

Jongin’s boots settle almost noiselessly at the doorway, then he feels Jongin’s presence next to him, kneeling by the railing beside the prince.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Kyungsoo turns to face him with half a mind to smack the words out of his mouth. Jongin keeps his eyes focused on the railing, head bowed.

“Fuck you,” Kyungsoo spits, his breath shaky with barely controlled rage.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, but not for not showing up,” Jongin continues.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to speak,” Kyungsoo says through gritted teeth.

Jongin winces at that, eyes closed.

“I don’t want for you to get hurt,” he says softly.

“Oh, and you’re not hurting me by doing this?” Kyungsoo asks, forcing himself to look out over the pond again. He came here for peace, he wants to get peace.

“This is the lesser hurt,” Jongin replies, looking at Kyungsoo with sad eyes.

“If you won’t love me, I’ll find someone else,” Kyungsoo snaps, meeting Jongin’s eyes.

And Jongin’s lips part, eyes glittering in the afternoon light. He looks out over the pond again, bunching the silk of his coat in his hands before he lets out a shaky exhale, but before he can speak, Kyungsoo continues.

“Hyunsik is interested in me,” he says, words dripping with venom, “All I need to do is tell him when and he’ll be running to my room, fucking me while you stand guard outside my door-”

“Stop,” Jongin meets Kyungsoo’s eyes again, the tears brimming, glinting with their impending fall. He takes a few breaths to compose himself, nostrils quivering as a tear falls onto his lap. “I’ll come tomorrow night.”

Strangely enough, this doesn’t bring Kyungsoo that much joy. It’s because he was unnecessarily cruel, and the hurt in Jongin’s look crushes his heart. He snorts to keep himself from feeling too bad and rolls his eyes.

“And how do I know I can believe you?” he asks.

Jongin wipes his face, sighing.

“I didn’t go see you because it was too dangerous, and you _know_ how careful I am,” Jongin whispers. “I’m not going to give you up for you to put yourself in more danger of being discovered because you invited some bumbling idiot to sneak into your room in the middle of the night.”

The edge in Jongin’s voice gives Kyungsoo more satisfaction. The prince sighs, standing up.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

It’s a weak peace, but he clings to it, taking it back with him to the palace.

 

Jongin actually shows up. In fact, he catches Kyungsoo by surprise, dangerously quiet as he slips into Kyungsoo’s room. The prince swallows a scream, sucking his teeth in annoyance when Jongin raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t scare me,” he huffs, pouring out the cinnamon punch.

Jongin doesn’t respond, sitting cross-legged on Kyungsoo’s bed as he waits. The silence that follows is brittle, but Kyungsoo tries to brush it off, throwing his hair over his shoulder before he sips the punch.

“This isn’t supposed to be torture,” he grumbles.

Jongin sighs, shifting closer to the prince.

“It isn’t. I’m just worried,” he whispers in the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, placing a tentative kiss on tender skin.

Kyungsoo lets out a contented sigh, bumping his nose against Jongin’s.

“My tongue can help you forget about those worries,” he purrs, nipping at Jongin’s bottom lip.

Jongin’s breath hitches, catching Kyungsoo’s lips in a kiss. The prince reaches for the pin holding Jongin’s hair, clumsily taking it out before tangling his fingers in Jongin’s hair. The kiss becomes desperate, Kyungsoo moaning softly into Jongin’s mouth, clambering onto Jongin’s lap, but Jongin stops him, hands on Kyungsoo’s waist.

“I didn’t-” he pauses, licking his lips. “I didn’t really come for sex. I came to keep you company.”

“What’s the difference?” Kyungsoo jokes, kneading Jongin’s thighs.

But Jongin peels the prince’s fingers off, sighing.

“I’m not going to have sex with you.”

Kyungsoo snatches his hands back, seething.

“Then why bother coming?” he hisses. “I don’t know why I bothered believing you.”

Jongin grimaces, reaching for Kyungsoo’s hands again, but the prince scoots out of Jongin’s reach.

“If you never loved me just say so,” Kyungsoo says with a trembling voice.

A flash of disbelief, hurt, before Jongin opens his mouth to speak.

“You didn’t have to fuck me just because I’m a prince,” Kyungsoo cuts in, “Besides, I find it hard to believe you love me when you don’t even want to touch me.”

“I don’t touch you _because_ I love you,” Jongin grits, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Love isn’t always about sex.”

Kyungsoo scowls, because of course Jongin thinks he only wants to fuck.

“I know that, but you seem so willing to give up on us,” he spits back.

Jongin stares at him, a tense moment of rage and frustration before he pulls Kyungsoo close, lip curled in seething indignation.

“Everything I do, I do to keep you safe. I don’t respond to your jokes and I don’t acknowledge your flirting because it’s dangerous. I don’t come to you at night _even though I desperately want to_ because I’m afraid of what will happen to us both if we’re caught, but you would throw away what I do just to scorn me. I do all of this to protect you, Kyungsoo. If that means I must love you from afar, then so be it. If it means I’ll never know what it’s like to kiss you again,” at this, he cups Kyungsoo’s cheek with a trembling hand, his voice hitching, “to touch you, to make you mine, then so be it. If it’s necessary to sacrifice our love to keep you alive, _then I will do so_.”

The prince is quiet. He doesn’t know what to say, not when Jongin is on the verge of tears and his own heart is swollen with pain, with guilt, with love. He leans into Jongin’s touch but averts his eyes, awash in remorse. Jongin leans closer, lips brushing against Kyungsoo’s cheek, kissing his way across the bridge of Kyungsoo’s nose before he pulls away, their eyes meeting.

“Don’t ever, not even for a moment, doubt that I love you,” he says, holding Kyungsoo’s face in his hands.

Kyungsoo’s breath stutters, sniffling to keep his tears at bay, but the dam breaks anyway.

“Why?” he hiccups, gripping Jongin’s forearms as he sobs. “Why do you have to protect me like this? Just because you’re my guard doesn’t mean you have to put that first-”

Jongin’s eyes blaze, scowling.

“I am your guard first, Kyungsoo. It is my duty to protect you, even if it’s from yourself, even if it’s from _me_ ,” he says, pushing Kyungsoo’s hair back gently.

“Fuck duty-” Kyungsoo starts, already heated.

“No, Kyungsoo,” he cuts in, so fiercely it makes Kyungsoo gasp, suddenly reticent. “That’s what you’ll never understand because you’re a prince. You don’t _have_ a sense of duty. You don’t know what it’s like to commit to something, to pledge your life to protect the wellbeing of someone else. And as much as I love you, you have to _learn_ , Kyungsoo. Your actions don’t exist in a vacuum. You may not face punishment as often or as severe as other people, but the choices you make affect people. If you command me to come to your room each night, I have to obey because I serve you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be punished for it, and it doesn’t mean _you_ won’t be punished for it.”

Kyungsoo gulps. The room is quiet but for the prince’s suppressed sobs. He touches his cheeks, surprised at how wet they are, but Jongin is quick, patting Kyungsoo’s cheeks dry before he holds the prince’s face in his hands.

“Do you understand now?” he asks, stroking Kyungsoo’s cheeks with his thumbs.

Kyungsoo nods, half-burying his face in Jongin’s hands. He sighs.

“I’m sorry for being a brat,” he croaks. “And for saying those things to you at Huwon.”

Jongin gives him a sad smile, pulling him close to press a soft kiss to Kyungsoo’s cheek.

“I can’t say I forgive you just yet,” he whispers, but there’s laughter in his voice, “But it makes me happy that you apologized.”

Kyungsoo smiles bashfully, basking in Jongin’s smile. The moment is ruined by an untimely yawn, Kyungsoo shivering once he’s done.

“I think you should go to sleep,” Jongin says with a chuckle.

Kyungsoo sucks his teeth, rubbing his eyes.

“If you’re here already I don’t see why we _can’t_ do something,” he grumbles.

Jongin raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“I’m not sure what you think you’ll be able to do in this state,” Jongin says, eyes glinting devilishly, “fall asleep while riding me?”

“As if that won’t make you cum anyway,” Kyungsoo teases, placing his hands on his hips. “We can touch each other if you’re too tired.”

Jongin doesn’t take the bait, instead lying down on Kyungsoo’s bed.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea.”

The prince whines, smacking Jongin’s thigh.

“I know you have lots of stamina,” he says, pouting. “Fuck me?”

Jongin pulls Kyungsoo down, brushing hair away from the prince’s face when Kyungsoo sputters.

“I think hands are enough for tonight,” he says, rubbing Kyungsoo’s back when he huffs.

“Fine. Wait, for tonight?”

Jongin slips his hand under Kyungsoo’s shirt, tracing his fingertips across Kyungsoo’s waist, which makes him shudder.

“Once a week. _If_ it feels safe enough to do so,” Jongin says, his voice stern.

Kyungsoo sighs, closing his eyes when Jongin undoes the tie of his pants.

“That’s more than enough for me,” he says.

But he shuts up after that, letting himself get lost in the pleasure of Jongin’s hand cupping his balls. He opens his eyes when Jongin gives his balls a soft squeeze that makes him whimper.

“Don’t fall asleep before you touch me,” Jongin teases, his grin widening when Kyungsoo pulls Jongin’s pants down enough for his dick to tumble out.

“I won’t,” Kyungsoo purrs.

They kiss, lazy and open mouthed and full of tongue as their hands stroke and squeeze and caress, the scent of sex mingling with cinnamon punch and Kyungsoo’s magnolia perfume. Jongin’s hand wanders, his fingers exploring the softness of Kyungsoo’s thighs before returning to tug on Kyungsoo’s dick. And because it’s been two months, and Kyungsoo is tired, and Jongin’s ministrations are heavenly, Kyungsoo comes fairly quick, whimpering into the kiss. Jongin comes soon after, and Kyungsoo has to stop himself from moaning at the sensation of hot cum spurting onto his fingers.

He sighs, contented, when Jongin pulls away. His eyes are closed, still enjoying post-orgasmic bliss when Jongin presses a sloppy kiss to his nose.

“I knew you’d fall asleep fast,” he whispers.

Kyungsoo huffs, glaring sleepily at Jongin’s bright grin.

“I’m not shleep,” he mumbles.

But Jongin is right. He succumbs as soon as Jongin gets up, jolting awake when he feels the wet cloth Jongin uses to clean him up. He falls asleep again while Jongin dresses them both, waking up when he feels Jongin stand.

“Sleep well, my love,” Jongin says softly, placing a kiss to Kyungsoo’s forehead.

“You won’t stay?” he asks, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“It’s best if I don’t,” Jongin whispers.

He gives Kyungsoo one last kiss. Kyungsoo wants to watch him leave, but his eyes droop to a close by the time Jongin opens the window.

 


End file.
